How much you would like to unfold,
I do not know.
The tender leaves and the pink purple flower
Of the Touch-Me-Not resemble you quite,
Fresh and green, soft and open, but
Averse to touch.
How much you would like to unfold,
I do not know.
Would you unfold if I sing at midnight
A serenade of love at your window?
And stand beside you with a rabbit’s ears
To listen to you?
Dhaka
27 June 2015
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