Stranger’s dream

With the dye made of dreams,

Poured in the cup of thoughts,

Dripping in the pointed nib of silence,

I wrote my story in the air,

 

It was blown by the wind,

And was gone to distant land,

But it will never get extinct,

Being energy it knows no end,

 

Somewhere it will wake in eyes,

Giving unknown lips sweet smile,

Making them hum my tunes,

Same words from different muse……………

 

ANKITA CHATURVEDI

 

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