Eden

In the hills
Where the slope ends
Huge rocks
As strings of sitar
To the water that flows
Haunted by village lasses
Singing to its tune
Washing clothes
And with awe the water flows
Tempts them to such an extent
Takes a plunge
Swirls
To caress them
Where the slope ends.

poem by Sanjay Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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