River 7 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

Mild air, cool air running through the river bank
Like the torting child on maiden suave run
Laughs away the remorses aboriginal,
Ghost of yesteryears under incompetent cares
Fallen apart with the sweeping meteors in tendrils
Chasing the unceremonious privy in fatigue.
Perhaps this starry night will read too much
The centinels of estranged years ground breaking,
Old river with little water can hardly carry the preface
Of passion having guts to complete the moon.