Monalisa’s Musing

Read my naked soul overflowing,

With poetry before its’ late,

As eternity, ah! I am knocking,

Yet on every heart’s door holding,

A bowl empty and still is I am,

Visible to thine eyes, but day one,

That mist from above the sky,

Shall carry me on its chariot,

To the farthest lands, perchance then,

Thy hands will hold the rotten pages,

Lying somewhere as dirt, spilling my verses,

Alas! Only that thud on thy doors with,

Fingers once those were fragile and bled,

Shall not disturb thy worldly sleep!

Words By : Monalisa Joshi

Image Credit : Unknown




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