As I tread, thru the, trodden trail
I see, sore shades, of resplendence
Like the, broken notes, of a nightingale
Strewn from, the string, of nonchalance!
Are they blossoms, which, lasted fall
Laid out, to dry, o’er moor’s, cold heart
Or the, broken mirth, of the, rainbow’s thrall
Falling from grace, two worlds apart!
Is this mystique, beyond my, thoughts
Like the, musk-deer searching, for its soul
In the, despair of, forget-me-nots
I find, my yearning, pay time’s toll!
Then I, chance upon, the motley throng
Like the hope, of spring, which never dies
Life’s lasting lust, to love, and long
In The Scattered Souls Of Butterflies!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra