At the Edge

At the sound of footsteps,
Of an imminent dawn,
That is to bring a full blossom,
How does the heart of s bud beat?

A seed longing for a gigantic spread,
Across the blue skies,
With what anxiety,
Does it await the first drop of rain?

A sluggish meandering flow,
In the prime of its voyage,
How elegantly curious is it,
To merge its existence into the eternal seas?

The moonlit radiant face of a bride,
With fluttering luscious lips,
How does it blush with a vermilion tinge,
With the thoughts of tryst of her lifetime?

My life at the lull of this juncture,
With deep bright silence engulfing it,
Awaits with them,
As I crave for my goal that lies a step ahead.