This Old Man

I often see this old man in the lane
It is now my time when everyone sleeps
The silence of a quiet night shoulders the numbness of the lonely lane
drooping like him
descends over the eneven bricks of this lane
knocks my heart like a door bell rung by a Gestapo Officer
When this world will end
I shall be meeting him again at the point of destruction
This old man!

April 2010

by Shamik Kumar Bose

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