Suroshri Paul

Agony, can you wait?

Agony, can you wait?
Can you not stop hitting my door?
Prolepsis of my lover’s embrace is turning pale:
Ah! My sick leaves of your Spring tree
Let them fall off, all at once.
Let me die, at the proem of dawn.

It’s been long
Since I’ve looked at the Sun and wondered
Of my friend’s eyes: What a beauty!
It’s been long
Since it’s raining inside heavy and
My home, my head: Is rotting wet.

Agony, can you wait?

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