Thursday

The Ganga

Her banks are so far apart,
I lose the other side
to the morning mist.
Her flow is so subtle,
I know not which way she heads.
Boats drift,
pyres burn,
birds fly
and crops grow,
All upon these misty banks.

3 comments:

Fingers said...

Beautiful, Sagar!
You're just getting better and better at this :)
This poem's so simple and honest, it doesn't even need any fuss.

Really like it.

Sagar said...

Finger~ Thanks a million, you are very encouraging. :)

Chandan said...

such beauty...transported me to the edge of the river

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