Monday, March 30, 2009

Nights' Past 10

It’s past ten pm,
On a regular weekday night.
While the weary rest
And the zealous rage,
The radio croons
Amid stark silence.


A voice is heard
As the tune ends.
Of a pristine rivulet
That giggles,
All the way through,
The air waves.


A refreshing zephyr
That breeds buoyancy,
Instills hope,
And keeps one rolling
Like a snow fed,
Perennial stream.


Perhaps, every voice
Has a face.
But I would say
This one’s peerless.
Maybe, because
It also bears a smile.

11 comments:

Winnie the poohi said...

Ah tender tender and positively sweet!!

autumn leaves said...

there is smthing about this write tht left a very known yet an unknown feel towards the end :)

Muse said...

"Keep it rollin ;)" What else can I say? :)

smriti said...

nice one eddy...loved d usage of words here :)

Amber Light said...

Lovely. I wish I could hear such a voice too. The radio these days has no such voices. It has only ads and more ads and more ads.
:)
Beautifully written. I love the choice of words

Priyanka Khot said...

whose voice is enchanting you to this degree... is what I am keen to know :-)

Pretty Me!! said...

really fresh !! liked the way this poem flows :)

coffeeismypoison said...

AWWW...so sweet...

Sashu... said...

refreshing scribble!! hehe :)

BlowHotBlowCold said...

Man you are passionate about writing ;)

chytra said...

:)