Piker Press Banner
September 26, 2022

Perfume

By Abhishek Ghosh

Perfume

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.