little girl, sings folk songs in a train
old man, creates melodies on a cello by the roadside
music – hope of millions
the colors of monsoon,
dripping from the tips of tender leaves
onto the little bright pink flowers
falling on the insipid pathway and giving it a meaning
their gentle movements in the gentle cool breeze
brings my life to a standstill,
as I think about the immense forms
nature shows its beauty…
There you are, the dream I see with open eyes the fire of my soul; wish I could sit by your side, read the truth dripping from your lies; wish I could touch your hands, feel my rising pulse... Wish you were not so far Wish you could hear my scream Wish you and I were together in the dusk of our lives Wish you were not forever gone.....
P.S.- Checkout my other recent poems Rejection and Beats of a Mourning Drum :).
baked in resolute heat courage pours from a crucible precious mettle