A Moment.

Looking down to a porch where the Bluebells grow
Next to them the wild garlic will show
An old dusted swing creeks with a century of age
With brand new shoots and the sun they crave
A crystal clear thought to sublime and make my nest
Flows in my conscious what Sir Milton thought of the rest
The gentle swooping wind swifts down like dive bombing planes
In a field of pure sunset like country lanes
In the distance a Wood Pigeon coos
And the rest of the birds also voice their views
Beneath this sunset filled velvet persian sky
Hear the distinctive sound of a Pheasant cry
As dusk sets in with moon rising higher
far away glows a farmers pyre
Soon to come the majestic Bat
Skillfully collecting Moth and Gnat
Stood up to the wind debating on directions
A moment screaming perfect kind to non-fiction
Twelve hundred seconds of the life spent
And I shall call this My Moment.

————
Blogger Note: I am on a weekend get-away at a hill station where my brother studies in a boarding school. Today I found myself sitting here at an old swing, reading Paradise Lost by JOHN MILTON. Maybe that’s why I was inspired to express my Moment in a form of poem.
It was simply magical. 🙂
Have a lovely weekend ❤

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3 thoughts on “A Moment.

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