The bus was winding its way
Slowly in the mountain road
Silver moon was shining
In its full glory in sky.
Half asleep beside the window
I was gazing out dreamily
At the silhouettes of passing trees
Bushes, small hillocks swishing by.
Then I saw the bridge
The bus too slowed a bit
It started from our end
Stretched to clouds and mist.
A quiet, serene river was stretched
Deep down below in the valley
Spread like a serene silver sheet
Illuminated softly in soft moon light.
The bridge lost its way in clouds
Was it made by human hands?
Or the fairies have laid it down
To come down to the mountain tops?
wild wind blows free
13 years ago
2 comments:
I can feel the serenity via your words. Well done!
dear ajey,
i think that makes the poem a true success. thanks a lot.
Post a Comment