The Liberated Leisure Poem by Subrata Ray

Can't you ply me a night's lease,
In the home of your way-bridge.
Like the broken-wings,
Like the rejected haggards,
And drained heroes of nowhere.
A transience -permanence,
Full of true to heart's lees,
In your spring of Paradise,
Can't you tender as my prerogative.
Who in their midsummer breathe the Autumn,
Whose sturdy feet are wasted in quicksands,
Who for their innocence, and honest-mistake are banned,
Can't you revive them from the boggy-fake, and be their stand.