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O' Beloved

The naked trees droop
under an autumnal spell
Leaves dry, pallid, crumpled
Like ghosts bereft of their graves.
The freezing wind
Lashing its spirit
On the helpless and hapless,
Howling through the sepulchral quietude
Carries a wilting trousseau
To life's Beloved; asleep in the clouds.
With Yearning, my song
And Hope, my lyre
I shall play
On the strings of love
Stirring the misty veils
To murmur. . .and rumble into wild showers
Quenching my parched soul
Splashing colors on the barren earth.


More By  :  Uma Parthasarathy

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