Not With Those That Tell Of Love


Photo Courtesy: Ayan Deb

I shall not scribble my soul

I shall not find vespers

For the darkness,

Broad as paper

I offer you my voice

The timid silver atrophied

The rain soaked my red garden

The piano lost its rhythm

Come and sit by me

As the evening pours its heart

How lonely is my palm

How red is the floor

Let us dream, let it rain..

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