Wednesday, 20 March 2013


In the worst of cold season,
I rambled among the naked woods,
My journey hasn’t any reason,
It was a joyful exercise in the un-covered roots.
Pausing the way ahead, I listen’d;
I was scared of fallen leaves low rustling voice.
A quarry was hibernating. It hasten’d
To a marsh that have no noise.
I asked myself if I have disturbed its privacy,
As I know nothing about the fresh brown valley.
They must have an unknown legacy,
But sorry, I didn’t know that uncovered story.
I stand still on the shaky rock watching
With my feeble thought inside.
I felt a hard knock clinging,
Yet, it was a note of my life beside –

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