Of A Still Winter's Morn

Written by: Akash Yadav

In stillness of a winter morn, A carriage passed me by, Treading a path old and worn, Upon it's wheels sore and dry; The air about had a listlessness, I heard no other noise Than the passing hooves of a steed, And my inner voice... No birds in trees about that house Whose porch I sat-in, ever spoke Early in that break of dawn, So I looked when the silence broke: A little distance away, and it Crawled to an awkward halt; The horse, giving a plunge in the air, Jerked and fumed in water and salt. Out came a lady old-- Worn as the wearied wheel-- Followed by the silken robes Of a beauty most surreal. In all youth then, i never saw A maiden so fair and pure; I watched in awe as the women both, Approached at my door. In ecstasy beheld my heart The temple of this Moon Shrouded by her hair, like night Working up a rune. Smiling, bowing graciously Like simmering warmth in the cold, She spoke to ask which way led To the house of(a name she told)... Still in awe, I arranged for chairs For my visitors to sit; Over cheerful cups of tea, I told what place was it. And before, they took my leave, I thought i had to say, ''Do stop-by this place Once more on thy way'': Those eyes passed a lively glance, As if to say, ''I will'', She finally left on her way And left me standing still... Bright was the day, and the next ones too-- I rested for the Dame: Spring and summer, winter came But she never came...