Worldly riddles have slashed it down,
Puffy questions have knocked it cold,
With each breath, still my wounded heart makes a pilgrimage to my soul
Tuesday 1 December 2015
Rustling zephyr mutes moaning murmurs of crinkling crisp leaves
Like sobs of dreamers are zipped to see their castles swirled beneath big wheels
(Paras Ali)
No comments:
Post a Comment