Thursday, January 2, 2003
The pale purple light atop the trees
Hastening to flee like murmuring sound
Of sluggish leaves and winds around
With languid mind longing for ease.
Languor hangs over hedges, creepers & trees
Bowers, hazel shells full magic bound
Tranquil land lulled by chirping sound
Of weary birds and hum of bees.
Muffled buds brooding over the sprays
With half drop eyes along the mute
Lake, in the lap of gloom so deep.
Stillness propt on meandering mossy ways
Like slow soft tune on evening flute
Induces thick twined flowers to sleep.