An apparel of camouflage pattern,
Where our country is your concern.
At the end, what do u earn?
Just an ocean of mourn.
Your each step out of our house,
My heart holds tight to a convulse,
Which searches the impulse,
Till the next morning of sunrise.
This 'Goodbye' may not be the last,
If it does, I may vanish like a dust.
Promises are at its finest;
Because our love is the purest.
Remember wetting my lips at the doorstep?
Your tongue invading mine very deep?
While your hands holding tight onto my hip?
And the tears and warmth as we wrapped up?
Day and night I'm praying,
Because my heart is aching.
The days are keep running,
But I'm still here waiting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem