My heart pounds wildly
as I climb up
the Margalla hills.
A flood of memories
from the sodden earth
of Sialkot’s River of Love
crowd around the ancient peaks
in my sight.
The groovy capital pulsates
on the foothills
preserving a story of civilizations
that flourished in the Potohar
despite or perhaps because of
Earth’s tribulations
The agony and glory of their survival
reminds me of a thousand shocks
the life today must endure
along with the mysteries of Swan River.
The pines stand tall
over countless bushes
as the hills play host
to savage hearts of the wild,
and the city, alike.
I pace upon the rocks
thinking of milestones
that I still must cover.
In rhyme with sweet-swinging birds
my feet dance
upon the exotic trail three,
my love holds my hand tight
and I, my breath,
as we wind into Nature’s embrace
to seek balm in its wild calm.
I pace upon the stones
thinking of milestones
Beautiful words
What a beautiful poem .Really amazing and heart touching.
Your Sialkot and Margalla hills miss you a lot.