In the golden sands where whispers of prayers roam,
My broken heart sits, lost in Ramadan’s home.
The desert breeze and a gentle sigh, Carries the tales of a month now passed by.
Beneath the crescent’s soft glow,
My broken heart reflects on the joy, the spiritual flow,
That came with Romadan’s glow.
Yet as dawn breaks, sorrow finds its way, For Ramadan’s departure did nothing but put my heart in disarray.
In the dunes, Romodon’s memories dance and sway away,
Echoes of prayers at dawn’s first ray.
The fasting, the feasting, the nights of Taajud so divine,
Now fade like footprints in shifting shrine.
O desert sage, teach me how to live,
Peradventure, another Romodon, I don’t see.
Help me recall the lessons, the lows, the highs of the month of Quran.
For in every sunrise, a piece of heart is torn,
As the blessed month of Ramadan is mourned.
He said like the sands that endlessly roam,
Hope rises anew in this sacred home. For though Ramadan may bid it’s adieu,
Its spirit and its grace will forever be imbue.
So let us cherish the moments we’ve shared,
In the desert of life, where love’s declared.
For though Ramadan departs, its essences should live on,
In the hearts of believers, until eternity’s dawn.
