How slumbering sun sips petrichor, windfall of, last night’s rain!
As nudge of bliss, stirs rustles of life, in the heart of wasteland
Whose hidden hands, caress the soul, strut the flair of legerdemain
And build the tides to roaring heights, break castles made of sand
Ballads, zephyr, murmurs in ears, of the wistful moor
Weaves thru the, yarns of lonesomeness
Motley greetings, of “Bonjour!”
And steals the scents of, en route woods, with a felon’s finesse
The darkest mystiques, and, starkest myths
Are the bared affairs, in this discourse!
From the world’s nadirs, to heavens’ zeniths
Does a storm sum up, its fortitude’s force?
Or a waft with the tenderest, graceful touch
Is the substance of, its creed destined?
In fond recalls and pensive veins, as much
Shall ever-resound, Whispers of the Wind!
© 2016 Vikas Chandra