Life Tells
N
Neela Nath Das
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Life tells
me to go
and to arrange
a bouquet
of sorrow,
I make.
You hold
my hand
with care
but I slip,
the sun rises,
but darkness
does drip.
Your love
grows
in my
secret chamber,
you are mine,
still, emptiness
fills my bed.
I laugh,
but in void
tear in lieu
of smile
is silently
paid...
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