It was that age when evening silver mists
Spread their alluring perfume
Captivated my senses
Drawing faces in the empty valleys
Always shrouded in mystery
A vision of dreams answered
Just almost within my reach
Yet as my outstretched arms
Lengthened across the lake
Faded away into a teasing book
And I
Lost again
Not knowing which page
Held the key to my lock
Of the caged soul that fluttered
Waiting for its soiree
To dance into midnight surrender
A whirlwind of untouched passions
Melting into a pair of nothingness’s
The perfect one
It is now the age
When mists spray the eyes
And slide on sloping deodars
A frosty white glaze
On the leafless tree
Of shattered dreams
Will there ever be a day
When the first moonbeam
Will melt the glaze
And clear the haze
As we stand face to face?
- Sadhana
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