Of unsaid word too deep for woe,
that by writing more
of people from around the world,
I, too, find myself at odds with what I least contend,
many a thought on thee;
away from my mind still in gentle grace of beauty's fair,
of eyes so blind to unending doom of poetry,
pours forth in e'erything from out of nowhere:
a toast of some unknown 'xo' like a party animal;
waiting to hear the church bell toll
against love's most high deserts,
from out of the blues in still waters,
moves afoot to eternal bliss in waking hour,
of e'ery fig leaf in autumn wind with pen-pricked angels,
thy most eloquent other in a drop of tear,
ah, but to thee suffice at sunset of the evening sky,
my reckoning days more bright to count I
by the sweat of thy brow too soon shall fade,
agoing, agoing to that day of unaltered eye.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Tuesday, February 03,2015 4: 36: 48 PM
* This poem updated on Friday, February 06,2015 1: 39: 25 PM, commending to 19 lines instead of 16 or 17.