Rainbows are fantasies,
Of an anaemic sun.
If only our eyes were prisms
Each Truth would have come clad
In a primary colour.
Dreams are facts,
Of life lived after-hours.
If only, we were awake
Each wish would come true
In the moment of its conception.
Songs are sorrows.
Of silences punctuated
If only we had heard
Each silence would have sung
With our heartbeats.
Flowers are memories,
Of fragrances dancing uncertainly.
If only we had remembered
Each scent would have embraced us in
An uncertain waltz.
Candles are suggestions.
Of light reducing us to shadows.
If only, we had opened our eyes
Each candle would have invited us
Into arms of a resplendent darkness.
If only, we had read
Each word would have promised
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Comments about this poem (Monika by Madhup Mohta )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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