there isn't the end of story,
that stranger always
watches over
day and
night
tho' many times doors were -
knocked by him, some
maybe met him in
the railway -
platform
as a
soul of leper or in the image
of lost child, stretching
weak hands for a
favor, maybe
he called
you too,
somewhere in the crowd of
auctioneers, or in the
scream of infant,
perhaps you
have
looked back but not alas - -
you didn't recognize !
* *
- SHANTANU SANYAL
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