Ananya Utkarsh
To fondle the mountains’ palette
with pink, tangerine and red.
And the valleys twirl
To soften the river’s hurl.
Like the winds wrap,
The sore days’ harp
And the clouds hoard,
To unravel the earth’s ode.
Like the waves blend,
With the morning sand.
And the trees stalk,
The sunlight’s walk
At twelve on the clock.
There,
I find You, darling,
My pious chant
And Your love,
My Genie’s grant.
Love it
Simply Beautiful..
The imagery..wow!
Kaafi Sahi