The Crescent Recognition. Poem by Subrata Ray

You promised a basket of glorious dreams,
Like dawn's Shephali or awakened daisy,
To me the sky revealed, flowers talked,
Charmed I was with blue bird's tongue.

The touch of their untold impressions,
Suspended me from fairy's wings,
With a conjecture like wreaths of,
Your mystic tree, and its treasure .

My day's walk enjoyed night's moon,
The morning flashed in murky night,
Hope, aspiration, and thrilling,
Sprang and sprouted in echoing green.

Till now, with occasional often, moon blooms,
Letter as if a stranger, visits, in drooping winter,
And yearning tinges in streets, stands, and stations,
For your face, teasing smile, and enigmatic profile.