Saturday, March 31, 2012

Dream it was

A dream it was I guess;
A Dream it must have been.
I woke up at the knock of it,
I opened the door, saw a sacred scene.
I saw a seraph in front of me.
A cool breeze of morning shook me,
With last night rain’s scent,
And the birds were singing to the moment.
Her eyes were bright,
Everything looked right.
A smile so amiable,
Her fingers were tender and feeble.
Her lips were red, 
Her windblown locks,
And those words unsaid.
She brought me a bunch of crimson Roses.
The beauty of moment was beyond all poems and proses.
Scent of those roses filled my room,
And my senses blew, seeing her face bloom.
Her sallow bare feet were mud stained,
Foot imprint of her, on floor remained.

But When I woke up,
There was no one in room,
It seemed to me a place forlorn.
But the scent of roses was still there,
And the mud still kissed the floor.
It felt like something never before.
There was an ambiance so pure and clean,
A dream it was I guess,
A Dream it must have been.

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