THE LOST CHILDHOOD
do you recognize, the resonating voice,
wauling of lost childhood, the
fall of immense nocturnal
bloom, in the tavern
the delicate
hands
lifting the goblet, wiping the wine droplet
of table, no, never you haven't time
to think for a moment, in that
innocent eyes, did you
peek ever, a dream
was easeless to
bloom,
you went away falteringly, just unaffected
of those emotion, because you
have everything, might be
hangover night under
gone through the
pleasure of
physical
warmth, did you think little bit for that face,
who was looking you with pity,
raising the feeble fingers
to cross the traffic
life, on the
signal
point did you ever left the class distinction,
came down from moonlit stairs to
touch the dried, deflated
cheeks of tender
heart, perhaps,
one day
you'll learn to love the flower, which can't ever
bloom, albeit they had lot of
undiscovered
fragrance.
