Got a song,
This morn,
Watching pigeons hopping along
The graveled path,
Leading to the garden,
With flowers waking up young,
Got a song,
This morn,
Watching swallows dancing
And picking grains,
Just beside that fence
Where like a painting,
Sunrays fell
Slanted ,
With shadowy trees.
Friday, November 1, 2013
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The State Funeral
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That boat of Madhu the boatman Is left tied at the ghat of Rajganj No one is taking it As it is filled with jute raw; If they would give...
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What a Sunshine You bestow On the plains of the city, Still moving slow, What a Sky You like a cover spread On my heart by hours of li...
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