Saturday

Silence

The clatter of your feet,
I long to hear,
The fragrance, when you speak,
I hold so dear.

The flickering lamp,
awaits a reason,
to flicker a moment more,
darker than the cloud of the season.

He knows the battle lost,
Upon the rotting graves,
of the fagrance in the frost,
of these private caves.

8 comments:

Oscar said...

first and last stanza have a nice flow.

Sagar said...

oscar~thanks, Though they, in my opinion are less creative than the second. :-)

Fingers said...

Nicely written, Sagar.

Sagar said...

fingers~honoured. :-)

Oscar said...

true, and therefore i guess u passed the second.

Sagar said...

oscar~certainly. :-)

Supriya said...

Nice... Very nice! :)

Sagar said...

supriya~thanks

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