Winter Noon

Winter noon
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Cockscomb flowers, the toddler
On the railing careless,
The marigold in numbers swaying their
Heads heavy with dewdrops,
The moveless wind carrying the light
That falls furtively through mango tree
Seems to breath his last unto my doorsil,
The wailing flies from flower to flower,
Spewing their loaded breast and die on fallen
The birds with unknown fear and the silence
Uncharted put forth their musical breast
With flaccid stream.
The sun above looks like a moon single
and solitary,
The path tired and empty with dizzy,
unfinished Serenade touches the wet
hunting ground,
In the inflated yawn of lenience and
Indulgence of Noon's outpouring pain
My mind sails to my far off days.

by Prabir Gayen

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