By Parnika Garg
He was the last bloom of spring,
On home the radiance of the moon clinged.
He was like the bird's melodious song,
Around whom the swaying flowers thronged.
He was the buzz of a bee,
Like a butterfly he radiated in glee.
He was the soul of the dead,
With feelings as fragile as a thread.
His thoughts wild and crazy,
And eyes with lustre but a bit lazy.
As he wrote his last letter,
With feelings flickering like twinkling stars,
Alack! The nightmare of destiny,
Which spares none of its mutility.
The pageants of intimacy delivered it late,
Till he had already met his untimely fate.
As the last petal slipped down from my hands,
The dismaying winds apprised that,
he had already left this uprooting land.
Promising to meet in eternity,
He still shines beyond the stars of Infinity...
By Parnika Garg
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