Monday, 12 March 2012


IN THE MIST OF MORNING 

on the remote mystic dale, night waning, 
the thin clouds are floating near 
the horizon, I've seen you 
many times there,
like the wet
rose, 
with eager eye, for a sun beam, between 
the trembling pedicle of emotion, 
in the soft rustle of morning 
wind, spread the aroma
of your body, rising 
somewhere
in the fog; realism of dream,  love is 
knocking the door of heart,
again, life has
recovered
from the experience of nightmare - - - - - - 

- SHANTANU SANYAL
MYSTIC ROSES BY GARY JENKINS