Blades of straw are still lying leveled
On the ground, left by our worried body,
Blowing crimson dust of twilight, we move
Playing broken harp of forgotten melody.
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Heart has learnt how to burn soft desire. ask the night To sing lullaby of sweet monsoon day. i like these lines in your poem. lovely one. thank you dear Poetess
And sweet dreams will come to relive the travel-pains.......WIth you miles to go will be tiles crossed.....Loved it, great imagery, very descriptive poetry.
Verily, the summer season teaches man to have patience and endure