So...
As it is raining still
And shadowy sculptures
On casements me feels
As if painting landscapes
Wet,
like a Zeeba...
An adornment of the evening dimmed
But shiny as a light
You
Image like arrive
A sight...
me can then only be
A zealot...
For You
Fated
Tied
Unstrung
Like a clarionet
Piped...
Sung
By the rains incessent...
And rains pour
More on soul
mine...
As if a reflect
Of the rains outside...
Like a Zeeba
As You the Bright
The Ethereal minstrel
me sights...
Rains be
your eyes...
As if happiness perpetualised...
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