In this theatre,
Of 'i'll call you later',
Each night the same old tragedy plays,
At midnight's gates,
He silently waits,
She takes her time, with her many ways...
Sometime last June,
Complains the moon,
Was when, i know she kept her word,
Ever since that night,
Barring a fight,
"i'm too sleepy now", is all i heard...
Hush! hush! Oh Moon,
You speak too soon,
Any moment now, my cell will ring,
So don't be loud,
And least be proud,
Hundred full moons, her voice will bring.
The moon made light,
In the valley white,
Except an owl, no sound was made,
And in the dark,
From some distant hark,
He drew hope, and the lover stayed..
(the moon says)
Maybe she's shy,
And that is why,
She wont call you till i have left,
Then with a smile,
God bless my child,
She spoke, and in a soft cloud slept.
And like many before,
And maybe more,
Whole night he waited for her call,
From heart to bone,
All alone,
Like a maple leaf of an early fall..
Of 'i'll call you later',
Each night the same old tragedy plays,
At midnight's gates,
He silently waits,
She takes her time, with her many ways...
Sometime last June,
Complains the moon,
Was when, i know she kept her word,
Ever since that night,
Barring a fight,
"i'm too sleepy now", is all i heard...
Hush! hush! Oh Moon,
You speak too soon,
Any moment now, my cell will ring,
So don't be loud,
And least be proud,
Hundred full moons, her voice will bring.
The moon made light,
In the valley white,
Except an owl, no sound was made,
And in the dark,
From some distant hark,
He drew hope, and the lover stayed..
(the moon says)
Maybe she's shy,
And that is why,
She wont call you till i have left,
Then with a smile,
God bless my child,
She spoke, and in a soft cloud slept.
And like many before,
And maybe more,
Whole night he waited for her call,
From heart to bone,
All alone,
Like a maple leaf of an early fall..
6 comments:
romantic poetry! good to read :)
Has a very classic touch to it
chhote dil bhar aaya..
dukhti nas pe haath kya ..poora body rakh diya re tune
too mush to handle ;) nice read sir.
Nice poem man!
"Hundred full moons, her voice will bring."
exquisite.
"and like many before,
and maybe more"
classic.
impressive man. throwback to good old fashioned poetry. barring the word 'cell', there is a timelessness about the poem that makes it as much about a night in 1810 as in 2010.
good work man. very delighted. wanna say more but it'd be redundant. good stuff.
Nice !!
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