memories, the midnight
rain to descending
sunlight of misty
mountains,
every
thing has the shrinking age,
in the album of life, often
we have searched
all the fragile
moments
while
the unseen affinity was as
usual left in the margin,
some droplets of
window glass,
some fallen
petals
and partially burnt candles
reminded the tale of
night, that was
the paused
storm
or the revival of the dead river,
not easy to say, but
something was
the rarebit
cognition,
the
life looked once again so -
beautiful!
* *
- SHANTANU SANYAL
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