Shukdeb Mazumder
On the coming of my youth,
To tell the truth,
Somebody named Daffodil
Gave me a flower on the way up to a hill
Plucking from the road-side
And took no time to hide
Her face from my view-
What was totally new
To me, but was beautiful.
In what sense? Was that a tool
To prove her love?
Oh, my dove-
Where are you leaving me in a riddle?
I know a little!
I remember, I kept the flower in my pocket.
Alas! How time does fly! Is it a rocket!
© Dr. Shukdeb Chandra Mazumder
24/03/18
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