A certain breeze…

Ishaisms

There’s a place where I go

where a certain breeze blows,

where every petal and every thorn,

every copse and every grove,

for the lost one does mourn…

for the loved one, does mourn….

There’s a place where I go,

where the birds sing a quaint song

of immortal, evergreen folklores

in music unheard before,

for the lost one to mourn…

for the loved one, to mourn…

There’s a place where I go,

where waves long to meet the shore,

watch the earth flower and grow,

crying in a melancholic drone –

and the lost one is mourned…

and the loved one,

is mourned…

© Isha Garg

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