Cling to dawning’s drape, as hails the sun’s
revealing rays, a slow ascent, night is undone.
Wringing in, as rainfall on September flowers
belongs the day, as soaking unseen bowers-
hallowed, hidden dens from branching gables,
place of passion’s secrets –Jana’s cradle.
Then, in reflecting off one lover’s eyes,
light that signal darkness’s demise
screams the sounds, if they were voiced and free,
subsume this moment – come, belong to me.
Taps and Ratamacues 
Measured, precise and yet the lyricism is mad skillful too. There was a cool, soulful force, just on the boundary of gentleness and strength. The sense of ‘heart’ in the end tied everything perfectly.
Thank you for your thoughts on this poem, and I appreciate the complement. I’m glad that it resonated.