Penned By B D Narayankar
I held a pretty flower in my fingers
And went to sleep
amidst night frigid and winds poetic
I woke up and flayed my fingers - The flower had wilted;
And now an ordorless
fragrance
Is all I own!
Note: Last night I had a conversation with my old friend, chirpy and full of life. He told something contrary to his personality. In his talk I realised he is heartbroken. Therefore this piece ...
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