Prelude to autumn! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
As the monsoon recedes, with vengeance
Sun livid strikes back, but gives up pretence
By mid noon, it retreats and westwards race,
Far from city scape, it slips leaving no trace.
Dusk falls at six, in blows a gentle breeze.
Festive season on, feel like drape silk weaves.
House is plunged in the darkness, but moon beams
Gently descend and rest on leaves it seems.
My upturned face is touched by their caress
Palm fronds swing and night strolls in at its pace.
Cicadas have made a quiet exit with the rain,
I embrace the quiet; no background score or strains.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.