This poem is a revised version of a poem I had written way back when I was in the ninth standard. It was when I lived in the hostel. We used to have evening study time every day. And through the windows of the classroom in which we sat, we could see the Panchnoi river. So one evening when I had the leisure to admire and write, I did.
I made a halt that dreary evening,
At a distant whereabout.
A bliss, I could not be leaving,
Its beauty enchanting, beyond any doubt.
A river, serene, glimmering in glory,
Stony banks, its ally.
And together they told a wonderland story,
A story for the eye.
With cottages, a few here and there,
A road slithered through the grass green,
Wide opening its arms, stood the air,
In that land of descending Irene.
The sun, a blindingly bright orange hue,
The sky, pristine pastel pink,
Worn purple to brilliant blue,
Colours all over, colours pouring on the brink.
A soft soothing breeze caressed me,
Its sound, its whisper,
Letting the sun at dusk, free,
Calling me a drifter.
The moon loomed as a crescent,
Smiling with lovely light,
The silver beauty was a present,
It was truly a breath-taking sight.
And being a traveller, I had to continue,
For the end of my journey, unknown.
As life has no halt, I knew,
I continued my quest all alone…