Poem By Naveed Khalid
Whither shall I go but a way too long in heaven's high bower,
have by thee in love's sickness departed so,
her shadow upon some lone bark of a tree,
oft beguiles me by night when I my star
am looking through the skies of good old days,
whose golden dreams in autumn leaves
are still but shinning bright before the sun,
that song of a nightingale in worn-out time
too, hath fled from off thy ancient lyre
through e'ery looking glass
skipped beats of my heart's untamed feelings,
secrets of remote visions unfold,
of haunt'd house in darksome world abroad:
the room, the chair, the table, the bed and I
nothing am more than what you think of love,
Mother! native nature's empty glass the wall on high,
her enchanting slogans of disparity to my shipwrecked dreams.
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Date Created: Monday, November 04,2013 6: 21: 00 PM
Title Revised from A Tribute To Mother To A Street Hawker