In My Dream Poem by Trailakya Roy

When I met her
She was in her teen.
Curly was her hair
Her figure was thin.

I called her
The cutie lass.
Walked slowly
Upon the grass.

I was thrilled
With some joy.
O beauty queen!
Pure and coy.

I asked her not
Her sweet name.
I followed her not
Nor became a sane.

I gazed and gazed
As she crossed the road
I was confused
As she stood on board.

On that midnight
I had a dream.
Was she in danger?
I heard a scream.

No, no I cried aloud.
She was falling.
What's wrong my son?
I heard a calling.