Tea turned cold
I grew old
It didn't rain
Terrace gathers leaves
Dry and in heaps
Clouds abstain.
Does this craggy face
Ever resurface
In a distant mind?
Or it gathers moss
Time rides horse
Yet no trails behind.
No Gambhir
1 day ago
Tea turned cold
I grew old
It didn't rain
Terrace gathers leaves
Dry and in heaps
Clouds abstain.
Does this craggy face
Ever resurface
In a distant mind?
Or it gathers moss
Time rides horse
Yet no trails behind.
Spreading rumour and humour. Mail your brickbats and bouquets to: babumoshoy@gmail.com