Kashmir: The Picturesque
The valley echoes the ripples of the lake,
When the Shikaras trammel the sight to the Sierra,
And the dance and whispers of trees,
With the crisp breeze.
The feels from within, though, you haven’t been
These tiny jonquils by the boulevards,
And pretty little things inside the shops,
And markets lit around as the street goes up.
The sky, more as chalk and board,
Of white moon and stars,
And as you feel the white circus nose,
Turn up your head and see the snow fall.
And as you walk by the stalls,
Of warm food and play rides
Better than the nights of city malls,
The mesmerizing view with no lies.
As the clock tower strikes ten,
Lights do guide you home,
Till you reach every now and then,
You take the shikara, row towards that house.
Finally, you get in, slip into the bed,
Fall asleep, as you sing the lullabies in your head.
Flows beautifully when those brooks,
That’s how Kashmir looks!
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