Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Perfume

"...Blind and deaf to the myth called age..."

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 in the September 27, 2021 issue .
Image(s) © Abishek Ghosh. All rights reserved.
More by Abhishek Ghosh → More poetry → Full issue →
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Reader Comments
1 Reader Comment
Anonymous
07/12/2023
10:26:26 AM
I never told you how much I loved you. I shed tears for you more than my own relatives and family members.
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