Mousumee Baruah

Mousumee Baruah

Arthur's avalon.

In the wee hours of beatific divine dawn, When the sun is yet to come out from his resting closet The boughs of amlas tree beaming with luscious leaflets, like a sporty fawn. At noon, when the sun rules the roost at its best. There are golden showers in the sprawling lawn. As boughs of amlas embedded with full-grown golden pinnate pearls to the crest.

In the dusk, when the mighty sun retires and becomes a little withdrawn. The pinnate of amlas, withered, losing its zest. And some mystic wind carried the fallen clusters of pinnate to Arthur's Avalon.