THE ECHOES

The echoes ------

The morning picked

All the pieces of dreams

With wounded hands

Incisive strokes

Broken the heart

Ruthlessly in multiple way

Some tear drops

On the edge of memory

Existed together the dew on

The moisturized moments

Alone witness moon—

Disappeared silently

Night flowers scattered

The last bloom

Perhaps ---the season

Wants to say good bye

The echoes died

In the mid way-----

No meaning of the

Waiting forever ---

---S.SANYAL