Like a freshly blown rose
A glimpse of you touched the morning sun.
And everything about you
turned into a mystery wearing an exquisite glove.
A glimpse of you touched the morning sun.
And everything about you
turned into a mystery wearing an exquisite glove.
A finely crafted teacup held in the rosy fingers,
and the sunrays fell timorously
on your snow white apparel washed
as if by the rays of last night's moon.
and the sunrays fell timorously
on your snow white apparel washed
as if by the rays of last night's moon.
You had turned your glance away,
lost in some casual but subtle tone.
All around you was an aura
of some exotic windpipe suddenly blown.
lost in some casual but subtle tone.
All around you was an aura
of some exotic windpipe suddenly blown.
Who would ever want to break
the mystique of this silentl zone?
the mystique of this silentl zone?
Sushama Karnik
Image credit: courtesy @ fawzi hejazi
Image credit: courtesy @ fawzi hejazi
Interesant poem!
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