From The Banks Of Ganga II
Who lived atop
Those distant hills
Where flickered
A lamp or two
During the nights?
Come night
Ganga turns
Into an enchanting black beauty
Her hilly banks
And the sky:
One overwhelming
Sheet of darkness clinging to
The beautiful Ganga
Flowing in that stillness of night
Her skin shining in ripples of gold
Laughing in mirth
Singing a resonant melody
Along the flow
Ganga, the enchantress
Ganga, the mother
Ganga, the worshipful
Day or night
Little difference
To people who came to her
To pay their obeisance
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Added by Poetry Lover
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