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wind of summer
too vagabond
drunk
touching the melancholy afternoon
of the last pale season

flowing over the
deep yellow barren field
echoing the last mystic sound
though yet romantic
spring
the purples are deep
divine

butterflies are flying around
a few birds playing
on the ground
suddenly singing
uttering love

yellow
the golden yellow floating
in the eyes  
over hued
saturated

dropping on the ignored
dry
wither leaves
as the rain drops that has made
a blue
day dream

crossing over the mind  
a jingle
leap singing
classic
the very lost spring
scrolling into
soul

even in the lonely dark night
rolling up
the sound
as the rolling stone
of the sounding sea

@Musfiq us shaleheen
Away from the white Stork feathers
Often seemed to be gentle breeze
On Kans grasses
Superficial white clouds
Small dinghies on the river
To navigate the life

Far away on the bridge
The Silent movement of the Brahminy kite
Southern breeze blew
Tilting the tall grasses toward the North
Leak of the light fell into the Kans,
Into the Soft green grasses

Sunlit mingled with light fog
Seek heavenly feeling
Without the knowledge
The lips Stir of

Walking beside the river
Barefooted
In the air Kestrel's mystic music
The river running with full of chime

What are the forms of you!
Thee bind me with deception!
What a Strange tune!
What those thirsty words!

So that I draw your image
Moving away from the shadows
Soft light blended with the estuary
Away,
Little by little,
To see your face
Like the rig of Ship

Behind the path
A magical dream
Seems like a White Shirt  
That I had left in the Kans grasses
A year ahead, a year passed by,
The doors are still opened, and the ponds are still dry,
You did say you loved me, you did say goodbye,
Our irrevocable commitments proved promises are a lie.

Its the night recalling the showers in the springs,
And the weekend waltz to the attuned strings,
You revolve around me today, with your name engraved within,
Stop hiding from me, so long where have you been?

But for a second i believed..
As the gush of wind whispered your name,
The clock is ticking beside our picture frame,
You're flowing like the river,in your gown , camouflaging blue,
Lined up a lot of work, I still got seconds for you.
There is always a line between holding on and letting go.The proof is that we are constantly pulled by it.
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