Dusk falls on the prayer flags of Leh
The lone house caressed by the purple hills
Slowly becomes invisible
A stained glass string of prayers
Hangs in a shaft of light
The single window a beacon in the night
Black lattice work branches etched against the sky
The winter trees offer sparse shelter
To the laughing birds of the waning day
Snow capped, the shining Himalaya
Softly whisper the day’s last goodbye
Indigo and purple, night’s cloak enfolds the naked land
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