When it is time, I would hear you speak, and I would know. From this slumber, new life begins.
If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.
Nice writing Rajesh. :-)
ReplyDeleteThe imagery is powerful... Thanks.
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