(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Fate Sports


My transfer brought her to my lip.
Her transfer wrought me a slip.
Can Cupid’s hand extend a grip?
Apricot, when will you be ripe?
27.05.2001, Pmdi
[love between two collegues]

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Comments (8)

Far away! ! Thanks for sharing.
nice poem....thank u for sharing.....
Foolish heart and faithful hand, Little feet that touched no land. Far away the ripple sped, Ripple-ripple running red! .........touching expression with nice theme. Beautiful poem.
This feels like Monsoon song spreading death and hope for new life....season of harvest....
The ripple of life with all its fragility and uncertainty; but the power of 'When my lover calls I haste-' draws her on
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