The Evening

The Evening

A Poem by The Winter Poet

His fingers run through the book slops,
A bookworm in between...
The place where the food shops,
A hungry stomach’s cream...        

He looks around the sea shore,
The lighthouse is a queen...
A sky is where the clouds pour,
His moon shines where its seen...

In the sand where the snail snores,
No cobwebs in a seam..
For kites the tragic wind roars,
How dead could be a dream?

A fountain’s where the lights glow,
He watched as it breathes...
The flight of her water flow,
A Smile less as he recedes...

In a garden where the fruits grow,
A place across the sea...
The sand in an eyebrow,
And thus the princess had a pea...

© 2016 The Winter Poet

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Added on June 7, 2016
Last Updated on June 7, 2016


The Winter Poet
The Winter Poet

Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India

All posts and entries are depictions of thoughts and are original. more..