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
