Satoma Asadgamaya

In Memory

Migrated Datasets


Monday, August 07, 2006

Whispering Death

Was it a midsummer night dream
As he lay sleeping by the window?
Through drawn blinds, a gleam,
Soon obscured by furtive shadow.

Perhaps it was the silvery moon
Turning away, helpless but glad,
Knowing that it would be soon.
And that amnesty would be had.

The wind rustled decaying leaves,
Which fell gently to the ground
In the wont that time weaves.
Once gone, no more to be found.

Standing sentinel, faithful tree
Until the very last breath,
Which would finally set him free
Of the sound of whispering death.

Management Class : Idylls of the Wannabe

mental baba 10:14 AM
saw your comment on my richard arooga site - thanks for your comments. Your Blog is very original and well written - Chennai article very good.

RichardArooga aka
|richard| : thanks for your appreciation and do keep coming.
baba ka katora |