My Poem – Rivers never die

They merely change their course
At a stretch, a point of time.
Years may roll by in oblivion
Unheard the melodies lie.

Not before long
They throw up their little arms
The tiny tufts of grass
Green and serene, expanding
Echoes of a lost song.

Down the slopes of time
Their thin trickle broadens
Town and country whore and saint
Grow up, bloom and perish
Along the flow of rhyme.

Spotted by flowers bright
Crimson as the colour of dawn
Swaying with the wind
The fragrant messengers cross the seas
Sometimes, even braving the blight,
Peopled by gods

Small and otherwise
Suitable places of pilgrimage
The rivers haunt us ever after
Joy in tears’ disguise.

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