Vague figures come to form
Under the tint of the moonlight.
Some slanting, some circling
Some bending, some trodden.
Squinting, the eyes pore
At the stream of the faint light
The eyes stared with aghast
The figures are just shadow
There’s no tale, there’s no life.
The flower that blooms The scent that lingers The beacon of light The ray of hope.
The well of love The wall of strength The trove of kindness The fountain of joy. The spring of life The cradle of growth The epitome of bravery The essence of existence.
Happy International Women’s Day everyone!
