A  humble   take on  Guardian’s  An  Autumn’s sunset

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

In  the  eventide, she  construes her life’s   currents                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Are  dried now, yet sitting  by the riverbank, she purloins

Moves  of   ripples  to  suit  her  waves of    imagination,

Why should she purloin ? Is she  purblind   to the  happenings?

The  hoary past lingers still ,she is  now misery’s offspring.

She  sings  a  dirge of  directionless  stature.

Dead to  all shames, demoralising, forgotten  of  all glories,

Whereunto   doth the present lead, she introspects.

“not to sailless  seas”, this  river bank is enough

To alleviate   my pouring , she ruminates,

‘I  shall wander  here, a  shadow’s  shade,

 Colourful fins, cranes   as if in meditation,

  Possibly  soothe   my  angst .

 Perhaps, a  Moon shine  will  retrieve me soon.