The moon is high on the sky with a halo.
The night young embracing the city below.
The seeker soul smile mysteriously
It knows not happiness but it is melancholy
That is all needed. I breath deep feeling the depth
Of my thoughts, of my loneliness, all have a depth
Of own. The ball of my pen lieng dry amidst pages’ depth
Searching the vein to draw the ink, to snatch the warmth
I hold. The brontide from wreckage of past
In the eeshaan kone of mind sending gust
With words scattered like bread crumbs to show the path
That is shimmering hazily in the spine of the pen. The wrath
Of be poet of another sad poem finding a gap to come out;
Though it is standing tall on the pages and saying loud
I’ll not fall…I’ll not…
I seldom write this type of poem. So comments are welcome.
Daily Prompt: Shimmer