Silence and love
When words are silent,
Frosts start saying mysterious dialect.
In the cool breeze to and fro,
In an unknown state of mind,
Twilight weaves dream.
Thereafter a nice story is creeping,
Intermingling with the age old
thoughts of inner mind,
Where the wings of thought,
At the end of the zigzag path,
Sink in quest of an abode of love
In the blue sea of desire and contentment.
Sikha Ray.
