Of a Still Winter's Morn
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...
Copyright © Akash Yadav | Year Posted 2011
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