Sunday Poem By Tapas Dey

Stringent fate

Each on glance is blank inquisitiveness,
all time restless is the infant
in the cossy waist lap.
The pride is this as the best gift
of God.
Joy, pride, freedom and life
here is all to her.
Suddenly a shot from the power
makes her stand at the threshold
of death.
Pool of blood ,
motherhood is wriggling desperately.
The infant is now in the lap of
stringent fate.
ফেসবুক দিয়ে আপনার মন্তব্য করুন
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