The Dawn When Turns To Morn
A Aniruddha Pathak
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Yon there, the charioteer of Sun
Heralds the arrival of dawn,
Seen dawning her demur more smiles
That spread on to far spatial miles.
She inches close with a pleasant face,
Her beau, Sun, to embrace,
Ever so slowly baring her breasts
Approaching, slipping closer abreast,
And losing her self as a dawn
She merges— one with the sun.
Her pale orange radiance
Emits golden red hues at once,
And soon she's no more dawn,
Ah she's a young lady called morn.
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Musings |44.08.2019|
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