See not I thy fair interlocks
of golden tress her hair,
that thy story unfold
many a star-lit nights,
full glorious sun of our common affairs,
walking on the moon
at sunset of the evening sky:
ere thy charms of living breath to eternal bliss
be made new love-song of the harplings!
but you in whose lichens of desire
my woe-begone days are spent;
bereaved of light that in full abundance
of thy presence alone,
I find myself at odds with pen-pricked angels,
rest content be oblivion of some dry leaves
of book in the backyard of my garden,
lacks the show of this world
that without thee nothing is enough
to count more thy blessings in my prayer.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, December 12,2015 2: 54: 01 PM