With Dewy Eyes - Poem by Prayag Saikia
can you discern a spring
with a harbinger sprout through the rocks?
Can you (?)
The breathless river is waiting
for the virgin Mama's lap.
With dewy eyes
doves are on their precarious perches.
Who will bring a pleasant draught
for my query?
Who will declare?
Ah! I descry a tinge of cloud in the distant sky.
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