The Most Intimate Hope

At the farther side of

The pristine landscapes...

Picturesque valleys

Lies the feeble flutter

And roving eyes of life

Catches her..

Demure image live

In her modest hut

Under the thatched roof

She spins dreams

Colours yards of it

In vibrant shades

Paints the picture bright

The old harmonium 

In the corner

With its reeds broken

Lies deserted

Like a remote metaphor  

Its sealed lips elaborate

Many a tales of shattered hopes

Strands of it ...

Pierce... rip apart 

The viscera and core  

Her voice...

Smooth as silk

Serene and clear 

Resonates through the valley

Ushers ripples in placid water

Her intermittent sobs

With motifs of sigh

Echoes her bond with beats 

And makes her 

All the more nostalgic

She lives ..

One of her most intimate hopes

That some day..

The spell of

Simmering anger

Will cease

The valley will exude

A fresh lease

Elicit scope for warmth 

And there will be reign of peace.