Unto the passing lights and evening hues,
Unto the endless waves of life,
He plays his Piccolo
To the tune of matchless olden times.
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An awesome poem. A pilgrim of infinite- Smiling at the wilderness of life. But his countenance is serene As the stillness of the scene. I liked this stanza the most. Excuse me for my rustic style, I changed it a little. But all the beauty is yours. CP
dear ravi The Piccolo follows a song And drops it among the passers-by. the poem resonates in sadness and the inevitability of the end...just like the distant lilt of the piccolo...wafting over an evening drowning into oblivion very very nice cheers
Read poem was like a piligrimage in infinite.........Good Write........
floating with the Piccolo sounds like Joe..wonderful to read. John
I had a floating feeling reading the words. Nice word flow.
‘And away into his corner he shrinks Emptying his richness into the world. ‘ Piccolo tune [like Lord Krishna to Gopis] grabbed me into the tune gamut. for Piccolo tune TEN+++ Ms. Nivedita Thanks for comments Cordially invite to read and comment on Enigmatic Navel Lie Sly or other poems. niv