Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep Of doves in silver feathered sleep; A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws, and silver eye; And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream.

– Walter de la Mare

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I wonder… Ab tera kya hoon main? (Who am I to you?) Yes, I often wonder. Sadma Qateel Shifai Sadma toh hai mujhe bhi ki tujhse judaa hoon main Lekin ye sochta hoon ki ab tera kya hoon main (I too am