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A BID TO COMFORT PASSION'S PAIN
Like William Wordsworth I often walk
Past the abandoned railway tracks
Thinking about my beloved.
Like Tennyson I go to the sea
For "the touch of a vanished hand
And the sound of a voice that's still".
Like Thomas Gray I sit by the grave
Of my dear, departed father.
Like John Keats I am always 'lost'
In the world of my "Fanny Brawn'.
A cloudy day like the one today
Just doesn't come without a say.
To be alone and miss 'her' more
Is an arrow of smokeless fire
Which refuses to come out
Of my heart of mortal clay.
O, let it rain and in abundance
So that I can comfort passion's pain
Rain, rain and even more rain
To wash my unseen wounds' stain.
Would love to drown with my 'Ophelia'
Like her 'Hamlet', to be hers... again.
(By Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay. Posted on September 09, 2011).
