Wine of Gold

 Days of heavenly thoughts have ended,
Curious spirit winged on beauteous clouds,
Deserted thine and mine souls,
Ink pots evaporated, pen tips dry,
Ages past did the last scratch on ppr made
Ages past did the last tell-tale in air fade… ❤

  To bring dead alive seem impossible,
To bring sun dip in sea improbable,
Not a chance, not a chance dear friend

We earthly lamps wither so soon,
A whiff of wind of kind touch
Makes mine soul depart too easily
From fragile carcass attired in mud skin

Tis thine sheen that I reflect,
Tis thine gaze that I return,
Tis thine words that I utter,
Mine sleepless restless heart
Doth lies in slumber from weeks

Yonder, thine emerald nature filled up
My empty heart with cups of wine
Oh not wine! Purest of honey,
I erred again, pure gold is thine music
Thine art is simple wreath of rose… ❤
-Spark of Imaginations ©

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