By-Parthajit Borah
I move after the second
I hop after the minutes,
I swing after the hours
when the verse forms
in the pages of my bosom.
Years are the uninvited alarm of life.
which reminds my past
in a foggy spring night.
You borrowed my evening as I
lost the spirit of life.
Tiring mind for chasing the clouds of emotion I become the washer
of your grief clothes.
washing with the detergent of warm tears.
I gradually lose your green smile
in the annals of time.
Fallen ring of your finger sparks me.
Now, I am dying by your bright eyes
in the annals of time.