A silent slow town so moist and cozy
As she liked it in bloom and rosy
Protected and sheltered
Things that would melt her
Reflecting in thought for hours they would sit
Wanting to move her poignant lips
Trees withered in want of her rain
but she waited for him to say it again
He’d tell her- mellow down thistle
You hurt me with your rage
Each time I move close
Your silence leaves me estranged
Recitals that'd heal suffering of thousands
Treated with love and deep profoundness
Breathing life in her- with every word
What he heard? What he heard?
He heard the rappelling in a frozen river
The thought of which now makes me quiver
Devised to soothe a swollen wave
rather than advising her to behave
Like the unseen sun in the monsoon sky
That taps the foliage glossy and dry
But still we may choose to call it murky
Like many other notions of man are quirky
He was one of them yet so detached
A high resolve that can’t be matched
And it was her silence that made sure he heard
Every word – Every word
He’d tell her- mellow down thistle..mellow down...
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