Snow mounts pushed apart,
She gains the space and departs,
Her journey as the glorious Ganga…
Pushing those mounts behind,
Gushing through the greenery,
She looks like the white quill on a parrot.
Spouting towards the plains,
From the top of the peaks,
She sounds aloud her laugh.
With a paper and a pen,
Poets all around her,
To praise her beauty,
Which never fades as her laugh.
Accepting her charm,
She runs again never ceasing,
To gratify the other admirers of hers.
This is Ganga.
The Glowing Glorious Ganga…
by
Amritha.G
IX: D
Ist Shift.
