Sunday Poem By Uttam Chowdhury

The haze

I’ve kept the time in waiting.

And surely in such words
The sun will not flee away after coming.

Will the familiar weather-cock
Go the other way changing the direction?
Or will it be blue by its own nature?

The time is in the hands of hard time—
And for the devoid of its common sense
The depressed sky descends,
And everything is filled with intense smoke.

ফেসবুক দিয়ে আপনার মন্তব্য করুন
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