by Saikat Mukherjee
Leave it when it’s done,
though it had been waiting for long .
Thought it was eternal and
and the wind was not wrong!!
It stopped itself;
from being disassembled, from thinking.
It was never meant to be though
and was not supposed to be writing.
It is like trying to
mollify and is striving to find the
Still it is holding its head high, even,
when the disgrace affects.
The curtains were already closed,
and it still finds it quite unnatural;
this old course can never be reel
and so it looks back to the referral.
The course was in real
and so was the referral.
The dismay was so deep,
that it started to be liberal.