Sitting on the blue garden's banal floor,
Bluish-white petal of the blue rose...
Your eyes take away my life,
You to me are bosom close
Your lips touch my hungry ear,
Your voice hushed yet clear,
Words resound like sound of wind,
Like the orange monk's orange prayer.
Never before my thoughts i fought,
My body frail my heart distraught,
But no odds can beat me where,
The touch of your hands on my eyelids is there.
2 comments:
Beautifully put:)
Thank you Archana.
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