The impecunious looks embellish that valley now. Which once harboured every lovers rendezvous. The flowers now sprinkle scents of anguish, The nightingale mourns the loss of refuge. The trees are sorrowing inadmissible pain, The spring ravaging their immaculate beauty. The scenes are scary and beyond telling, But my pen is being disloyal to me. May it breakdown or get dried up, Else may they stab the power of my vision. Badee Uz Zaman
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 02:51:04 +0000