His Voice

by Debalina Roychowdhury

His voice brought forth the dusk again.
The pain-stricken flowers danced.
The verdurous gloom deepened.
Upon the willow tree, over the leaves
Colours of the old sky opened.
Weary time tossed her hair,
Something still weaves the air.
They say, 'His voice brought forth my dreams again.'

26-May-2012

More By : Debalina Roychowdhury

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Comments on this Poem

'His Voice' is actually voice of depth bounded by colourfull circles whose centres are time invariant....

Debashis Jana
03-Jun-2012 03:25 AM

Your poetry often brings forth my dreams, and sometimes, my nightmares too...

Sharmistha Sen
28-May-2012 10:26 AM

beautiful!!

Rupradha
27-May-2012 14:51 PM