by Shamik Banerjee 

Soon we will, escape my love!

We shall run beneath the cloud and moon,

then few steps of the dale above,

is waiting our new afternoon.

And there we will, put newcome blush,

fetch from all tilting boughs, the air;

and passion’s new admiring rush,

will bring us to its gay affair.

A pretty brushwood there will be,

and so will be a cropping-ground:

all suitable for you and me-

where grains and millets much abound.

In rural dress, we will aguise,

brim buckets from the hereby lake,

I’ll raise the pulses and the rice

and you for toothful repast make.

A workroom short, I will purchase;

place feet on desk and cheroot smoke;

so by and by, herewith the days,

to sweetest living will evoke.

Nowhere to quest; no grief to look,

two spirits’ rest; two lovers’ hand;

there we will bind our versing book

and Poetry is all gainand.

Away from time; away from drear,

we’ll fly to love’s unbending call;

we’ll thrutch away thro’ men and fear-

away from here, away from all.

© Shamik Banerjee 

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Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with solitude meddles well with poetry to provide him an ageless harbourage of happiness. He runs a poetry journal called the Rill and Grove. He aims to contribute immensely to the world of poetry.

You can find him on IG @where_tales_end.

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