A Fragment Of Her Poems. Poem by Subrata Ray

A Fragment Of Her Poems.

She painted picture of thoughts,
And conveyed them with her name.
I just read them as love poems.

She serves her romance,
As primrose flower emits fragrance,
And winnowed willow stretches in dance.

She forwards her smile,
Like beams of crescent moon,
And my me there in sets and gets swooned.

Her voice impels magic,
And my heart-beat accelerates,
In me some grotesque itself celebrates.

My Forlorn when in anguish burns,
And my void thirst writhes for a peg,
With her un-bodied touch I awake.

Mine was not a midsummer's dream,
But a hanging in redeeming,
Oh! how I wish to be a fragment of Her poems.