By the window, pretty mauve
Flowers quiver in the breeze
Now you place one in my hair,
On my forehead: a moist kiss
The mauve blossoms have withered
To traces of sickly pink
The bleaching glare of summer
Leaves colours in dreams alone
The heat, the haze, the fever
The wakeful dreams in stupor
Long are these days: never-ending;
The nights, sleepless and sweaty
1 comment:
Love your poetry, Arjun. I write poetry too, see my poetry divan at:
www.emalecdesign.com/poetry_divan_files/default.htm
ElenaM from drawspace.com
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