The Harshest Winter Ever Seen/ Song Of Winter Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The harshest winter keeps it
Banging upon the door
Lost in mist and fog
When there is chill outside
The last leaf too lies it fallen
And the old thrush perched on the twigs too
Wants it not to sing
On marking rough weather, bleak hope around
And people in overcoats daring not
To go it outside.

Well, how do you ask me to sing of winter
Going with the rags and the blanket
From the farmhouse
And we waiting for the sunbreak,
The glowing red disc of the sun?
When winter seems to be banging on door
As the harsh wind blowing
Knocking at the gate as a stranger
And there is no hpe around
Just bleak hope, bleak hope marring the environment.

The fog and chill,
The cold wind blowing, spine-chilling wind,
Fog and mist, mist and fog around,
Blanketed in
With a shroud, a sheet of
And we unable to trace, locate
Who is where,
How to hope for fair weather, glistening sun
For the herald of the good news to overtake us,
Making us beaming with joy?