Leaning his bike by the tree,
Hanging the violin over a branch,
He leaves his trail, in anticipation,
Your feet shall follow in expectation.
Cloaked by the morning mist,
To see his lady among the mist,
Alert to every rustle that breezes by,
Calmly he waits by the brook.
Mists lift as the lady arrives
Mere glance holds thoughts immense
Silence speaks volumes, intense
Silence speaks volumes, intense
Hi Barb
You are welcome to share your opinion on any of the poetry .. irrespective of whether you agree with me or not.. but please donot use comments for spamming
It has been quite a few times you have posted the same comment +link in my blog.. I had deleted them earlier..hoping you would refrain from doing so in the future..
Please donot post generic comments / spams…
Regards
Deepa
Admin
*lol*
Hota hai hota hai …
BTW, check
http://www.artihonrao.com
I tell you, it is an awesome site 😉
GBU
Arti