Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
At times she comes and refuses to leave.
She softly whispers this time let it only be we.
I loose my self in her warm embrace,
Buried in her bosom like the crescent of the moon,
While time meanders through us, on a Sunday afternoon.
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Comments about this poem (Unwritten Poetry by Hardik Vaidya )
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