North Wind In Sails Poem by Naveed Khalid

I can ne'er know by what cruel hand or eye,
what worst time of the year to that day of morning's pure serene,
I behold my love that grows to eternal bliss;
that of erased looks this world to my mind still
of another rent at midnight lease in waking hour,
too, but fades away in dismal shades of age-old grey
against that forfeited dark more bright to illumine
than what from a fumbled mouth hath spilled to becharm the skies,
alas, in waste of words some vulgar paper to rehearse,
all wrapped in shroud of a star a broken shaft of feathered mast at north,
e'ery flower upon a barren heath in my bed of crimson joy.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Sunday, November 16,2014 2: 13: 25 PM