Oct 26 2008
A peddler…
Some one is trying to play, the mandolin of the mind;
When the deft fingers touch the strings of the heart,
A tone suppressed in tears, emanate from its haggard look.
And the staggering mind is retreating…Forsaken dusk!
Even the waxy moonlight appears to you as the burning summer.
And, spectacular vistas of spring, as sad rainy days.
The woeful heart, [...]
