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To The Memory of A March Morning


I can feel the morning air 

pregnant with hope 

white night flowers look like 

dreams that forgot 

to retreat back into their caves 

this morning feels like me. . . 

expectant with hopes of the day 

as I am of tomorrow. . . 


I feel the spirit of the morning 

trying to reach out to me …

thro' the smell of its sweetly fragrant flowers 

thro' the faces of its innocent birds 

I feel like a hermit woken for a day 

that'll be satisfied with prayers. . . 

I feel like an infant newly born 

loving the feel of air in her nostrils 

I feel like I have just been placed 

within the space of this morning 

from some alien, distant, dark land 

the feel of a day beginning 

mystifies me and urges me to stay 

and I do. . . 


I have been awed 

by this soft misty morning 

by you and your creation Dear God 

every leaf, every humble flower 

look like masterpieces to me 

I wish you were here 

to see the joy they bring to me 

I think you are. . . 

you are here between the distance 

of this paper and the pen 

with which I write 


love me 

like this morning has loved me 

be as sweet to my senses 

as this air laden with scents 

be as tender as the silent tremors 

of the drop of dew on this tiny flower 

be as passionate as the eastern sky 

coloring itself slowly with hues of fire 

leave me as shy and satisfied 

as the moon that's glad to return to the cloud's embrace 

after a full night of loving 

love me 

like I have loved this morning. . .  


if ever you imagine me, love 

imagine me as this morning mist 

retreating softly inside the shadows of the night 

if ever you think of me, love 

think of me as this morning air 

laden with the scent of flowers and soft, wet mud 

if ever you love me, love 

love me like this spirit of morning 

that has softly made love to my senses 


let beauty prevail for ever after 

in this world 

let the hearts of all be 

as pure as this breath of morning 

let all the days of our lives 

begin with a touch of your heavenly fingers. . . 


God, I can feel your fingers 

softly touching my mind 

God, I can touch you 

with the fibers of my heart 

I can feel your eternal breath 

so intricately mingled with mine 

I have seen you retreating slowly away 

into the mysterious shadows of the night 

God, I have felt you 

so completely this morning. . .   


More By  :  Ambika Bhatt

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