Concealed Paradise

 

In my anchor less sleep,
i’m consciously dwelling deep.

Playing all night, is a dreadful,
stale tale.

The moon that was on crescent, throughout, has turned full,
i keep praying him to remain dull.

His vision for me has blurred,
putting me, in deep trouble.

Awaiting for dewdrops to fall ‘n’ turn me, to a pearl,
i woke up, once more, stuck within my shell.

© Hari Prasad.S

 

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