Besides my birth, in September
My heart belongs, to that mystique
Which rustles, past my soul’s slumber
To spark in mind, melancholy’s streak!
When cold zephyr, and balmy squall
Play hide and seek, o’er my skin
The bliss and bane, of my, each recall
Whisper to me, “Life’s a sublime sin”!
O’er leaves of, bleeding maple tree
I see the swan pairs, meet and mate
On the loch’s soul, pregnant, with new spree
Whilst I sit there; watch; lust and wait…
A dream, to be not, destiny
A love, a plea, in misery’s thrall
When heart becomes, soul’s litany
I Am That Yearning Of The Fall!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra