The night was a torrent of darkness,
Winds blowing fast and relentless.
The moon was a ghostly galleon,
Sheding its light on the roads and lane.
Soft clouds covering the sky so deep
Yet from there silver stars would peep.
YOU ARE READING
APRIL TWENTY- FIRST
PoetryTime travel to the past to those ancient times. Those eternal love stories that are now almost in the verge of fading away. But some of them remain forever!
