words pile up
stale flowers, that have turned to stone
mad desire on an old man's face
mad whispers of falling fountain
untamed passion
owl's laughter echoing in an empty room
the flowers lay crushed at her feet
passions were tears
dripped like warm blood
lost in your shadow.................
at the distance, lilac in the loneliness
haunted moon lay wounded
swirling amidst the ruins of words...
ASOKE KUMAR MITRA -India-
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