It is the final sleep after which, no one has ever slept.
How can I go with so much left, so many promises unkempt!
Unknown hand in the dark, from my window still creeps,
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So beautiful with your great passion for life in every line, you write with such ease!
My violin comes and sits near me, plays on its own and weeps, Many of my bosom friends are empty nesters and alone Beautiful again! I like the flow of this and of course the rhyming.
An insightful and lovely poem, Abhilaaj. Thanks for sharing Peace
It is the final sleep after which no one has ever slept How can I go with so much left, so many promises unkempt! Deeply philosophical with rhyme and rhythm the poem is a beautiful write.