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The Sylvan Godling of LoveBy Madhura Banerjee QuailBellMagazine.com At times, when the sleepy, old light Of the farewelling, March-end sun, And the soft breaths of coming summer Through my weary soul do run, And the city squalor turns to vapor – I sometimes rewrite thy words – Such delicate words, such pretty flowers, Easily blown by gusty herds I fall against a cloud of petals, Every ash of doubt cleansed white, Every bleakness, every sorrow, Every pallor take momentary flight I see, in dimensions a million, Shapes and hues, unexplored worlds, Reality, never more welcome, In most beautiful tracts, unfurls As is the tenderness of love, True and unsought, selfless, untainted, You are – bright star of my lost evenings, For you, sylvan soul, mine hath fainted Madhura Banerjee is seventeen years old, and a school student, from West Bengal, India. In her pre-teens and early teens, her poems have been published in the extras of The Telegraph, namely "Telekids" and "The Telegraph in Schools." Her short story had been short-listed in the Top Twenty-Five of the All-India Scholastic Writing Awards of 2006. Her work has been published in the online magazine, Teen Ink. CommentsComments are closed.
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