You often come
Silent of steps
Prowling gloomy nights,
Hooting silent waves
Whirling dark clouds
And, have seen you
Lurking behind
Frozen cold nights
Riding high,
your master’s vein
What if
you possess, sword
of the cutting nights.
I, of born love
Truce thy might
By continuing to use the site, you agree to the use of cookies. more information
The cookie settings on this website are set to "allow cookies" to give you the best browsing experience possible. If you continue to use this website without changing your cookie settings or you click "Accept" below then you are consenting to this.
An intriguing poem that exudes an air of mystery ,which leaves the reader anticipating the answer to an enigma .
Profound & Thought provoking….Tapeshwar….:-)