Tiptoeing into langrous nights
Where supine souls lie
I kindle in drowsy mind
Images of various kinds.
Sometimes gory,
Sometimes divine
I take them on a ride.
Under the ocean
Over the gales
In salubrious yards
In lovers lilting bards.
Sweeping over the floor
Sneaking through discrete door.
I show them the unreal, real
A world startling, surreal.
Making them savour and shiver
Over the reverie river.
I wish a writer loved me
One who could smell my soul!
Letting his invaluable ink flow,
Making each page with fantasy glow.
Shristee Singh
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