By Ayushman Khan
The day passes by much sooner than before,
The night has been darker than anything I've known.
Guideless and aimless, words spoken too soon-
Evenings lit up with hope, the light from the moon.
Face of her own, enhanced by another-
Light freckles and spots, unique like no other,
Reuniting lovers- under its gentle light's shine,
A glimmering red dress, none the day without some wine.
Too hard that fiery orange glow is on the eye,
Perhaps a bit colourless, something less far-fetched I should try?
A mirrored, calming light- not much short of a boon-
Evenings lit up with hope, the light from the moon.
Yet to some unattainable heights, men love setting their gaze,
Why settle with dependence; when the sun could amaze-
Perhaps even more? Yet, to blind we are to see-
That just by staring at impossibility- badly burnt we could be.
And one would choose to understand- if the 'useless' beauty would disappear,
Words spoken not with empty love, but with some genuine fear;
With no one to be guided by- a child fed with no spoon;
Ever diminishing vision, the night with no moon.