it remains ashes after burning
over and over the sky it's flying
you try to wash the face of the sky
expect a rain as the wind blows
as the stream swipes with flows
so many things you saw there
but what else is there
the flower basket of nameless
or the raven on the burned caravan
a bright day on her smile
or a deep dark on the raven's neck
if there again any rain that drops as the tears
what else that remains for bare
Certainly, it will be dried
and traced as the buried river
as the dry leaves of the late winter
yet that's whispering in a chill wind
and there a raven in the mind
.
@Musfiq Us Shaleheen
30th January 2018
All Rights Reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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