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A Haven of Dreams

A Haven of Dreams

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, there is a rapture on the lonely shore – Lord Byron

Here I walk in the haven of my dreams,

Where modest frangipani and wisteria,  

Form an arcade above me.   

Pink cherry flowers strewn on pathways,  

Adorn them in summers.  

Where rivulets run hastily during rains

As if to meet their beloved,  

Also to feed submerged paddy fields.

And the music comprises of

Orchestra of frogs and crickets,  

Inhabiting that marsh at night.    

Where during long winters,

The morning air smells of

Pine resin, lemon, and jasmine.

And the sterling silver sunshine

Nurtures small herbs and trees alike.   

Where evening emerges adjusting,  

The pleats of her emerald green gown,

Flips her auburn tresses of clouds   

And welcomes ferns and wild creepers

With an endearing floral face.

Where the subjects of animal kingdom  

Like silver langurs and bears,   

Are tranquil and considerate,

To distribute the produce of orchards,

Among themselves and other species.

Where rooms smell of softwood

And old hardbacks.

The gifts are of local fruits and saplings.  

The talks comprise of revered philosophies, 

Where wisdom is like a rhizome,   

And one doesn’t have to dig deep to find it.

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