THE TWILIGHT OF DUSK



The golden aura of the sun
Spreads its wings and runs
Through the evening,
Shining bright before leaving.


A golden dust trail
That the hooves of cattle 
Create, mingle with the gold,
As the day its eyelids folds. 


Chirping birds flock to the trees,
After a hard day to rest, now free,
Bees and butterflies hang their wings,
Not even the cuckoo sings.


A shepherd plays a melodious tune on his flute,
Bleating lambs in tandem, playing with stones or fruits,
Golden stubbles of the once green crop,
Indicative of a harvest done with, stopped.  


Everyone comes back, returns home,
When darkness creates shadows on the temple's dome,
I still sit with dreamy eyes, lonely, alone,
In the blowing wind, trying to feel touches known.


Like the golden sun, the yellowed pages of my life story,
Dip into the azure-gold, going down the annals of history,
Winnowed away like the chaffs, the golden husk,
Waiting for a new dawn,both drown in the twilight of dusk.

©Madhumita