This canvas of blue, this originality of darkness
words that feel like bricks of remembrance
there is no peace, the last dance of the sun
trails lonely in a mist of unforgettable forgiveness
someone scatters soil on poems of Acapulco gold
someone reads the epitaph written on the threshold
'a life unsung, a story unwritten, a song untold'
someone holds the psalm of nostalgic poetry in his arms
someone breathes loneliness, someone cradles storms.
© Jaspreet Mann