Thursday, October 09, 2014

Birthday

A poem was long due
To the detour of eyeliners
Along fine lines
On a weary face.

Another was due
To the chaos of a tempest mind
Contained safe
In barren sanities.

And another
To the poetry within
That never found form
So mingled with the blood...

And a last one
To this day each year,
That unfolds like a stranger
Full of promise, and love
And closes at dusk
Like it never was.


2 Comments:

Blogger idle-labour said...

Besh, besh bhalo laaglo.

5:58 AM  
Blogger Ragdoll said...

Thanks ... lately, Birthdays leave me kind of confused...

6:01 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home