by Anurag Mukherjee
Picture the brightest light you can,
You'll feel the winds in your command,
As in front of her, you make your stand,
Discounting all your trivial errands.
Your limbs grow weak, you bow your head,
In graceful diligence as she takes her stead,
The grasses 'neath her feet do bend,
There is no time, no life, no death.
And then you hear her cherubic voice,
She leaves you without a choice,
And then renewing your life with purpose,
She leaves in silence, without a noise.
Last updated August 11, 2015