neatly pressed

I snatched this poem

from the mouth of Night

as it raced past me

on its red-golden steed

to the deepening light

 

I stole these lines

from the  teardrop

on a white  flower

as it lay glittering and dying

in the morning sun

 

I will take these words

to the bottom of the garden

where the toadstools grow

and light the fire

under the cauldron

 

I will gently breathe

and watch the runes

as they tumble and fall

softly  into the laughter

of the fairies you say aren’t there

 

And you will know. Yes, you will know

when you wake one night

and  find my rhymes

neatly pressed,

waiting by your side.

 

DSC01010

 

One Comment Add yours

  1. Pallavi madhani says:

    Requesting u to write a few lines on durga puja

    Like

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