Poezja

That blue eyelids reminds me
Of the mist in December
The fog on the morning
Were she clad in white
Rapture of a lost kiss,
Never experienced
The lavender flowers
Oozed away from her hair
The lonely banyan tree without leaves
My son Thomas – never born!
My past in the Caribbean
The villages in kerala
Numerable lass secretly loved me
But never expressed
A window I used to watch
The infinite scenery nature present
Epochs resting in the laps of history
Quench of a lasting lust on her blue veins
My sobbing heart, nobody knows.

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