Pradip Chattopadhyay (28.01.1961 / Kolkata)

In the balcony where you used to stand
The sun reflects vacantly
You are in a distant land.
The flowers your hands plucked
Blossom and wilt without your touch
They miss you so much.
The winds that brought your smell
Now moan dull odorless
They can't touch your face.
From the grief-laden sky
Drops as tears the morning dew
With them all I miss you!