Without poetic seed there won't be prose. The entire network of branches, twigs, flowers, fruits and leaves is nothing but a commentary on the small poetic seed. So all ye wannabe writers, nurture the poet in you, who understands the value of pause in life, who moves slowly to watch everything, sight and smell everything. Brushstrokes of poetry softly touch the soul without disrupting its restful muse and bring out nuggets of love, compassion, harmony and peace. All content © Sandeep Dahiya
The day
holding its last ray,
The dusk
at its mellifluous cusp,
The breeze stops
to welcome dew drops,
To the nest
birds return for rest,
The leech
also has to reach
a place safe,
To crawl
cling and brawl
on a new day.
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