Penned By B D Narayankar
When the fingers of her (beloved) memory
slips through my eyes
And fondling,
scrooches down to caress
the cheeks of my heart
The heart goes blunt with shame,
and laments:
She (memory) does bad things on me, and -
pecks her name with her lips on my cheeks!
Ha! No chiding can ever make
change her naughty ways!
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