Harish Pradhan

Harish Pradhan

It hurts

It is all colourful

The lush green hills

The swaying Meadows

The silver streams

The wild flowers

The heart is full

Of pure blood

As if drawn from

The nature fresh

You and me.. and

The songs of love

The music of moon

The simphony of stars

And the agony of

Drifting away with

Strange sense of

Hurting memories

Tha tear drops swell

And swell and swell

And then....

An ocean between us

Copyright.

Harish Pradhan