How so blind of e'ery departed look
that can see not through the heart
of love-sick thought on thee,
be but beauty's waste in vain words,
so vague impressions of poetry,
which from off thy sweet lot unfold
her seraph Wing of gold!
away from this fedora of yore dream,
I my secret hath kept
ere in the mellowing spring,
heaven-ward bent beyond the sunrise,
makes wither some dry leaves of book in autumn
against bright-lit mirror of thy most high deserts,
this world writ upon the wall on high
of my shipwrecked dreams to a close afraid;
no dark can e'er illumine in my bed of crimson joy,
else my deeds to pry, you've come this far whence no return
to a midnight calling from off so remote a place
her stumbled feet upon the mundane shell by the sea-ashore.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, December 23,2015 5: 49: 47 PM
* astra has a problem of a
Title Revised: From A Buzz To A Poisoned Ear To A Barley Ear