From the valley of KashmirA Poem by zubia
From a beautiful valley called Kashmir I hail.
I wake up to the mist and breeze at home; But as I open the window to breathe fresh, I smell the smoke from the fire all round, Ignited by those sitting on the throne. I sit by the Jhelum to heal my heart; I watch the river flow and silently depart. I stare at the water that carries tales unknown, of the bloodshed, the terror, the perished souls, Known to those sitting on the throne. I sit under a pine tree, long and dense; where the beauty of meadows has secrets to tell; The land has the seeds of conspiracy sown, of plots for the people yet not known, woven by those sitting on the throne. © 2017 zubiaFeatured Review
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Added on October 9, 2017Last Updated on October 9, 2017 Author
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