Piker Press Banner
June 05, 2023


By Abhishek Ghosh


Closed my eyes on a wet park bench,
When you tapped my shoulder blade,
Mist of rose and the cool of mint,
Ends my lonely masquerade.

Wrinkles fade and the heart got young,
Blind and deaf to the myth called age,
Did I evolve? Questioned the untaught mind,
"Yes my son" - said the inward sage.

Turned my back to hold thy cheeks,
In shock I was, the soul darkened,
Got cheated by an alien's perfume,
Claiming falsely to be awakened.

Article © Abhishek Ghosh. All rights reserved.
Published on 2021-09-27
Image(s) © Abishek Ghosh. All rights reserved.
0 Reader Comments
Your Comments

The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.