Last night
dewdrops fell
in a slow mist
on the closed lips
of the delicate buds.
In the intimate
bed of flowers,
under the scarf
of the blue night,
the dewdrops gave wings
to fairy tales.
A pair of twin souls
swimming in the gentle
chaos of the heart,
weighing the sky
on their delicate wings.
Last night,
it was a full moon.
Last night,
dreams were luminous.
Last night,
I was with you...
in my dreams....in my thoughts.....in my subconscious.
3 comments:
awesome!
The poem started well and kept me interested in scrolling down but the end was over-romantic.The vivid and fine description of nature one needs to appreciate. But the end is what Lenin(obviously not in art but in the realm of struggle) would have called infantile disorder.
But keep on without even thinking of the the regular slogans of save paper to save environment. The more important thing is to save and conserve the language
@Abhisheka: Few people have been trained in such a way that they feel being rude will make others feel they are just and best critic. They have confined themselves in the cocoon. And refering few irrespective books or obsolete people, whom the world wants to forget makes them feel intellctuals. Just a suggestion, wake up... how long can you cheat yourself...
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