Wednesday, 18 January 2012

You Sing to Me

Now you know why I talk
Of the sands that washed away
Many castles of many lives
Tender, sometimes fierce
Sometimes, I think,
You too understand
That heaven rolled up, is not heaven
You sing to me like the wind in the pines.

On grey days, as we
Speed past, swaying lilac tassels in the wind
I hold on to every fragment
Every dream of an abandoned space.
When I tire,
I simply go back to those sounds
You sing to me like the wind in the pines.

Wait for me at the solstice bend,
Seasons will shed their wings
And feathers will rain down.
But only if you wait.
Only if I come.
Wait till the equinox and
Sing to me like the wind in the pines.


Pre_Dator said...

poetry and its underlying essence indeed dare to celebrate the me and defy the otherwise day-to-day charade..

Udita Banerjee said...

I am glad for that. It's what keeps poetry alive; its power to celebrate and defy :)

Pat Hatt said...

A wonderful verse, liked the flow and how you made it truly stick out in the readers mind.

Also if you want more views, in an hour or so link it here. Will get some.

Brian Miller said...

nice....thanks pat for pointing our direction...i really like 'sing to me like the wind in the pines' because i have heard that before...i love nature as well...and you capture some of its essence well...

Sheila said...

Very beautiful

Nikhil S.P said...

Poetry at its best.

Matthew MacNish said...

Hi Effervescenia. Just dropping in to follow as your A to Z co-host. Nice to meet you!