Flowers in the mirror,
A light smoke for your soul,
Tell me, where is my burnt town?
And where, the bag of pink feathers?
Thursday, 7 October 2010
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Chimes of Freedom
Do comment, gentle reader. Good, bad, ugly. Sublime. Discuss. Your opinions will be invaluable to me, always. I will reply as frequently as my schedule allows me to. Love and warmth, Inam.
Picture: Madhumita . Header Picture: Gautam
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Copyright Spot
Roses for the Madhouse
Picture: Ansuman
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2 comments:
The bag lies beside a busy lane
Long soaked in the rain
And then, sun-dried, sun-burnt
It heads for a stampede.
a real poet
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