Guests Poem by Shyam Chakraborty

I talk with them in my room,
The guests arrive like migrating birds
Their consummate wings for perfect seasons,
Their inscrutable gestures and incoherent voices,
The cryptic love blurring my eyes,
My song of genuine passion and ardour,
Desolate I verbalize my one-sided bond.
Whoever arrived they took a scrap of my life
And wrecking it they gave my life to me,
When they leaves my body with abhorrent eyes,
I arise in arid earth, reclusive, in vacant room,
Crestfallen while my heart blisters.