With Myself

With Myself
"কত কি করার আছে বাকি "

Friday, March 11, 2011

…….Simon, the Station

I ring the bell at Simon.
Only One train a day.
The day is not green here, but the night is not grey.

You got down alone last night with just an overcoat.
Dews started sleeping over the rail.
It's too cold & blue; your face was pale.

My ink dried last night.
Alcohol started bleaching my blood, not the page.
You're retorting yourself whole night, sitting on the bench.

I didn't ask you a single word.
Your mind gently asking for a ticket to lay down.
No smoke & spirit, just to be free like a unicorn.

Yes, a smoke's coming out of your mouth.
It's too humid to capture my subconciousness.
Your heart's burnt, just a little smoke from ash.

Have you ever walked over the ferny life?
I have and I'm walking to see the next sun.
Surely I will ring the bell at Simon.

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