MIDDLE OF NIGHT

As I try to wink and sleep,

amidst the melodious memories,

a face smiling pops in,

to disturb me in my dreams…

 

 

 

I open the eyes with a shake,

suddenly feeling as if travelled the lane,

in a few moments before the second,

down the past histories of fame…

 

Middle of night and the wee hours,

I get up having a thought of yours,

again the next instant I close my eyes,

to reach in the land of heaven…

 

 

what a conjuring night of  love,

without you and your touch,

feeling the caressing wonder ,

even when you are far away from here…

SWEET NIGHTINGALE

 

 

The magic of the wonder wand,

As it spins and twirls in hand,

Creating an aura paranormal,

Hypnotizing wonderful lovely bird…

 

Striking and attractive, she is exquisite,

Pleasing sound of stunning music,

Against the picturesque nature,

She astounds the magician in real…

 

 

Astonished and amazed by the speculation,

He questions his conscience out of sure,

Is it the effect of my wand …or the

Nightingale is a born star?

 

Puzzled and confounded he stares,

At the sweet gorgeous bird so rare,

Yet he misses the translucent drop,

Which falls while singing a song of cheer!

 

 

PRISTINE PATH

The stimulus to persuasion was very delicate,

few encouraging moments of converse in sync,

simultaneous effect of the tete-a -tete between,

mesmerized under a captivated link…

 

Conceding and responding to the sensitive expressions,

requires poise and conviction in self assertions,

numerous times ascertaining the disposure,

I accepted it as god’s will against all endeavour…

 

Not everyone dwells within to decide,

a path so intricately divine,

harmonising the surrounding with sincerity,

yet travelling on a course so pristine…