Sunday, February 16, 2020

Asoke Kumar Mitra writes

Fragrant days of autumn
Chariot of clouds at dusk
Here the clay goddess comes
Carries all my songs

The golden touch of her feet
Makes my joy to shine infinite
Birds sing in the morning
And the whispers of the wind
Flutes sound and the laughter

After four days—

Memories swirling into nowhere
Plunged into a sea of silence…
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