“A JACKET”

Slumbered for months and seasons

Somewhere locked inside iron Almira

Yearning for the monsoon, frigid days

         

Master your shoulder is bending down

Lenient arms looking dry and roughen

Bewitching back closer to uncouth

Feel enthusiastically the same old perfume

Can’t you even hear that weeping?

Might be amongst the unused cloths

So faintly it would be dangling

At the dark side of the wall

In a chilly day of November

After the drizzling rain, master got

A new jacket that fragranced of a heart

It often saves from the wild rain

Time would recollect a journey

When master leftward the city in late nightfall

Four hours or less in that gorgeous bus

Diagonally the bad roads of nocturnal

Rain drops were on the window

Who convoyed with you master

Only the heart fragranced jacket

Can’t you even hear that weeping?

Might be among the fallow cloths

So faintly it would be hanging

At the dark side of the wall

Time had erased the memoirs

During the sun burnt hot days

And often in sweating nights

Inquire with respect from your heart

Without making sound on that soft body

Responses are hidden collectively

Merely, unclearly on your shoulder

Eyes would gather as one

To pursuit inside the iron Almira

If you still texture the fragrance of heart

Can’t you even hear that weeping?

Might be among the fallow cloths

So faintly it would be hanging

At the dark side of the wall

Mischievous rain of this end July

Missing you master to walk with

The Heart fragranced jacket

Someone always beholds each step

Sincerely yes someone

Skin was gleaming like

A pink rose of December morning,

And beholders felt

Tempting in unimaginable classy broad beam,

Limpid black pupil, enchanting eyelash,

Ever dark pleasing kajal,

Bow like keen eyebrows,

Small bindi looked like dew on the petal,

Auburn chignon hairdo,

Little quiff on right cheek,

That added diamond to the platinum;

Tooth were sparkling like pearl,

Jewels glowed up like the sunup,

Left shoulder’s reddish birth mark

Was making you more a perfect belle,

Your grin countenance kept

Thousands of riddles to the bystanders

Feel the soul and make self-attire

Adore will alive towards the way of Shangri-La.

Can’t you even hear that weeping?

Might be among the fallow cloths

So weakly it would be hanging

At the dark side of the wall

A jacket an old jacket…

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