My response to the exquisite post by Moon River on the Moonlight Garden Project in India, is this poem by Tagore.
Yet one solitary tear
Would hang on the cheek of time
In the form
Of this white and gleaming Taj Mahal
Rabindranath Tagore
This poet dreams of walking in a midnight garden, where poems are pearls draped upon bushes and hanging from exotic trees. -Where dreams are Faeries' Fire and pears belong to the fruit of all possibility.
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