| ||
| There they come! The autumn winds Combing through the crops ripe. Fondling them, making them sway in mirth, enticing them to chant life’s melodies, sweet as honey. I wonder,"is it just a ruse? For these tender plants know not. Winds can’t love, they just coax. Disguised as breezes, they make each plant dance on life’s beats. Breezes, as soft as mother’s kiss, Caress the buds, taking them to dreamland wherein they fancy a great harvest of their desires, hope they that their longings end. Alas! The breezes mature into monstrous winds, wiping life and the dreams so fondly cherished. Raging wintry winds, freezing life, striping earth of the green, turning it into a barren rock bereft of feelings and the love. Rock whereupon nothing sprouts except thorns, pricking, sucking each drop of blood and the life. Winds-as tyrannical as death itself. | |
Shabir Ahmad Khan | ||
---|---|---|