Skip to main content

An Everlasting Dream

She enters my waking dreams,
With her hair flowing in the breeze,
Like Aphrodite plucked the soul of the East wind
And planted in the Garden of Eden. 

As I follow her in an ephemeral trance,
I catch a glance of her mesmerizing eyes.
Those eyes, pure like the morning dew,
On a cold winter morning.

I call her name,
But to no avail,
Oh the vagaries of the damsel!
I sense a playful smile on her lips.

She turns around,
And that is when I see,
That smile.
Molded in the likeness of the setting sun
In all its glory, depth and color.

Dreams don't last, but memories do,
For now, my sunsets remind me of you.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Fight

In the dusty roads of life, The heart searches for a friend. In the lonely walks of love, The soul longs for a companion. The darkness of the skies, Dampen the once high spirits. The dreary clouds, Crush the mind's lingering hope. The light that awaits me, Seems to flicker at the distance. And the tunnel seems to stretch, Without an end. Though my legs lack the strength, My sinews carry on the fight. Though my heart has given up, My blood flows hot.
Post a Comment
Read more

Conflicts of a Broken Mind

“And let there be light!” he said. Thus I believe the universe was heralded; in the glow of divine flash bulb. Tiny embers must have rolled out of the heavenly bonfire, and strange devices they would seem, bellowing off steam for their very existence; oddly reminiscent of certain noxious humans which were to come several ages thence. Tiny as they were, these devices conceived even tinier contraptions. Innocuous and gullible, a little Earth must have wiggled in the radiance of its mother. Since then life surged; and has never ceased to stop. Life goes along its path, never meaning to stop. Ever so nimble, yet so staunch. It commands its minions in an endless march, moving meticulously with the beat of time. Hitherto, when a new life is born, it chases after the splendor of a butterfly. Alluring and irresistible, the wings of creativity threaten to stray this diminutive mouse from the piper’s entourage. Or does it? Cold and harsh hands tug him along the predestined path, impassive eye...
Post a Comment
Read more