Shayan Afzal

In winter’s eve, when day doth yield to night,
Through leafless groves, my pensive path I tread.
The air, it whispers with a hushed delight,
As twilight’s mantle cloaks the world in dread.

The boughs, stripped bare, ‘gainst heavens’ dusky veil,
Stand sentinel in silence, stark and true.
Through this dim wood, my lonesome way I sail,
Where day’s last light and night’s first shadow brew.

Yet, midway in my sojourn through the glade,
A wondrous shift doth seize the air’s still core.
A cascade falls, in secret beauty laid,
Where nature’s art doth fill my heart with awe.

By water’s fall, where evening’s spirits prance,
My soul finds rest as night steals day’s advance.