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

Author

The Winter Poet
The Winter Poet

Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India



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