Where hides the whiff, of that mystique
If not in sanctum, of the wild
Which plays a bout, of hide and seek
With the candor, of a vagrant child!
Where rests the soul, of nonchalance
She strokes the timbre, trudging by
Can’t help, but fall, in lingering trance
Of the whispers of the, drunk magpie!
She fathoms thru, the dark deep wood
Beyond the bounds, where sky mates earth
On the tomb of rot, where once life stood
She stirs the yearning, of rebirth!
A nudge stronger, than a million blows
As lasts till fall, spring’s blessed caress
See bliss beguiled, in melancholy’s throes
Of A Zephyr Lost In Wilderness!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra