The Escapade Let my poem be unhurried and spent, gentle to wait,like the sleepless night in a desert. Let the harassed metaphors of life turn into my people and stones. Hand in hand walk my sorrows and mirth. The few passers-by birds hurriedly take dips in the puddles. Winds carrying memories of a forgotten summer escape. My mind goes back, backward into the dark alleys of past. (c) Bina Biswas
Posted on: Mon, 23 Jun 2014 04:28:45 +0000
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