(30 October 1901 - 25 June 1960 / Varanasi, United Provinces / British India)

Cyclone

If I never return to earth
I shall walk down this lane once more
And see the gateway in the delicate sunshine
And by its side the scarlet iris;
The closely tended flowers, the yellow and fresh blue
There, and the deep green carpet of the grass will rest my eyes.
Whose house, who lives there, these I shall not know -—
But the eager pain of springtime in the farer's lonely breast,
Will fill, in the restful quiet that trembles with the piano
My eyes with joy for a passing moment.

On days of rain I still remember her
As soon as local green is overcast
With common grey, she comes, an image sharp
In outline only, lighted symbol-wise
By fitful flares of memory, just before
The curtain falls, and instantly, the show
And seer transfusing, I forget my years,
My forty years and more...

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Comments (1)

A great poem, like it, a great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Devil And The Beast.