Mothered by a hope, cradled by an idea;
The dream was born on a happy night,
For hours it kept me awake, by its innocent cry.
It’s a blessing of a god, let me father it tonight.
But with the dawn, I must rise,
To see it gone and pay the price. (In the form of sorrows mebbe)
Nevertheless the memoirs stay;
And help me fight, the plight.
But there will be dusk and sun will set.
When a new dream will be born…
Dedicated to: me
4 comments:
Nice job....nice poems on ur blogs
actually there is one more paragraph... but due to some reason I cannot post it now...
So that is what IIT-ians do? Dream? :)
@casablanca..well this cannot be generalized to IITians, but atleat I do whenever I find time :p
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