Sarder Tawhid Imam (August 28,1992 / Dhaka, Bangladesh)
One in a million…
Sitting in an endless ride,
time and wind passing.
The calm has consumed us last,
and standing eyes fussing.
The lass beside is a chatty one,
Plump lips eager my thoughts.
The moment verses break a pause,
The ride is again on.
Scoot a mile we share some smiles,
At times we looked aloft.
And stuffy seats and ragged walls,
this moment could have happened alone.
I wondered her play, am I a toy!
A game we will soon forget?
The ride is real and the place we are to be,
and the road takes us along the trail.
It is soon coming time, and we haste,
break open cards of charm and words of vain.
Here comes the tunnel end and I step out,
She scootes away as always in the million’s crowd.
Comments about this poem (One in a million… by Sarder Tawhid Imam )
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