A bleeding heart, silent in its stream
Meanders away from its distant dream
A gash awakens, a wound that had healed,
The tale behind its scar revealed
Like an old friend, it holds my hand,
And leads me back to a familiar land
My lungs are filled with a scent from my past,
Strokes of blue, on a canvas vast
I know this place, I know this hue,
The still of the wind, in the silent view
Like an old friend, it holds my hand,
A familiar pain, that I can't withstand.
Nadeem...
No comments:
Post a Comment