The snowy flakes fall upon my tulips and kiss them for a
blissful morning.
Thy fusion of rays and dews massage the feathery fondness of
her petals.
Rose, Rose but fainted in fragrance of her smile.
Limited my nothingness in words, she called me a poet.
The sun dries thy frost and flicks thy fibre.
My bosom is benign with motherly kindness.
Her smile sinks in my heart as bliss,
but tossed out many at times with my innocence
I am yet to discover my seclusion in meditative silence.
Showers of Grace call my heart to ooze out this blood of
passion
Sculpt in my verbal images of love echoing for ever.
Pleasant carpets of magic welcome my vista...
Implying think-tanks creech below cronies and ghosts of
their ego.
Trained to think on the footsteps of tradition and lost
sometimes,
in a sudden season of bubbles of wayside wisdom.
I speak in silence with my pen.
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