Cover of evening grey, dark shadow outlines of an extending tree behind me

Faint light in the distance flickers; a glow piercing the night cloak

In the eerie silence of dead living the only voices heard are the creaking of this garden swing.
The garden long been robbed of its song, reclusive in a silent melancholy.

 A seemingly unending dark, night. Kashmir !

~S~ 

7th July, 2012

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