On Going To Mumbai
Parting is the destiny of every rose,
The garden is sad when it goes,
Both are helpless and pain grows,
But, fragrance yet it having pathos,
I'm here but my heart remains there,
And take me too lives my heart where.
I'm restless when remember the sight,
My mother departed me with wet eyes,
Placed her hands on my head hiding her eyes,
Containing herself she tried at full her might,
My sisters too put their hands on my head,
My heart weighty, I stumbled moving ahead.
My lovely friends who're dear to me,
Came and surrounded me with affection,
My heart restless like waves in the sea,
And eyes were wet like froth's collection,
They can't be parted like the sun from its beams,
I would often meet them in my dreams.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
Added by Poetry Lover
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