Opus


Tinte

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Sky as the poet and sun as his poetry are enlightening the surface of clouds with the golden hues

Opening the ripples of spectre grey hues.

Redecorating and rekindling the cloudy canopy.

And painting the memory of old beautiful autumn days.

Yet, the fallen leaves and blossom flowers are welcoming the season of frost and rime.

The mist upon the leaves is the awning of winter.

Spindled deep in the frost morning.

Like the string of lyre, 

The vacillation of mind is filled with the full hearted song of joy.

And the sweet melodious voice arose among the weakening eye of Day.

Yet, the lights and shades of dawn were fading away.

While, the dew upon the trunk of a tree is glistening the horizon 

Beneath the winter dregs 

The dazzling display of stars crisply whispered to night. 

Flew to and fro, shadows danced upon such…

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