Yearning heart seldom takes respite
from its pensive yonder,
senses caged,
desires derailed,
while the heart wish,
it never escapes the evil’s disguised veil

The heart knows such thoughts
only means bereavement,
yet it remains a mute spectator,
captivated in some senseless brooding,
and it explodes to pieces
with tints of scarlet,
reflecting shadows of yesteryear’s ardor,
spreading on the gray canvas
of his once boisterous love

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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