When the poet had his charms on you,
The twinkling stars spoke of love,
The dancing flowers sang of love,
The twittering birds forgetting all other things,
Celebrated amorous delight fluttering their wings,
The gentle breeze whispered love wherever it blew.
Now that the poet has lost his charms,
The stars do not twinkle,
The moon doesn’t smile,
The flowers do not dance, but just
Stand to attention.
The birds find their ways apart to fly away,
The brook doesn’t babble but stills.
The breeze gets too heavy to blow.
The trees shed their leaves, while
A shroud of melancholy covers the poet’s mind.
Dhaka
Copyright Reserved
05 October 2015
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