By Shounak Sinha Ray
The path was weary, long and grey,
With red leaves rustling on the floor:
Such hopeless love in his heart lay---
Wide as the skies and warm as May,
As he made way at her cottage door.
The candles were burning low and dim,
The shadows played in dark wilderness;
The lonely flickers to her did seem
Like clouded stars as she pictured him:
While drops of pearl ran down her face.
His shadow lurked, her poor mind crawled;
As two souls stood on either side---
With hearts still alive, but stony-walled,
Selves smeared with a sad silence, stalled:
His hand fell, as her soul’s rising tide.
Like waves of a cloudy sea that cleft
The radiant gold of a sandy shore:
With souls that stirred, with hearts that slept---
Her mind was storm, and he, parting, left
Withering blossoms at her door.
By Shounak Sinha Ray
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