A forgotten flower

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