Elusive Nymph by Shamsud Ahmed - HTML preview

Jilted Reminiscence

Where sometimes those legs speaks,

And moves to the door steps;

Retards backs with a clatter,

Some clatters still in this heart;

How things have changed,

Days with my cronies are diminutive;

Nights perennial and haunting,

Those melancholy strains are daunting,

Alas! Those thorny leaves,

Never did pinch;

For the flower it bore,

And the vagabond to the shore;

Swineherd the gardens you plough,

And the animals you reared;

Forsaken their destiny once more,

Blood – out of some pore.