Dying of hope

Of the myriad summer yearns,
Of the sudden wistful churns,
Of the world in dark satires,
Of the sullen silent fires,
Of the girl with grim eyes,
Of the dream of starry skies,
Of the signet on your name,
Of the rough and wasted fame,
Of the subtle-loud sunshine,
Of the things I can call mine,
Of the blots on cotton checks,
Of the pointy hairy wrecks,
Of the winding narrow roads,
Of the long forgotten bodes,
I am dying of the hope of life,
Of better things and beyond.

-Anubhav