Manisha - my wife.
I still loose my poems.
I shiver to write them down.
When will you kiss me?
Such that I can tear my heart out?
Till when will be I a prisoner?
First of my parents.
Then of my work.
Then of my self.
Never of my wife.
She always let me free.
To roam and find my strife.
What is tragedy?
Me or you or my life my only seed of sanity my wife?
What shall it take to repay her this debt of infinite?
How blessed am I?
Both at the same time?
How can I be so much loved?
What have I done to deserve.
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