All That Is Left Is A Line Sketch… Poem by Parijat Banerjee

I knew she would be alone as always -
Standing in front of the same old unforseen curtailed curtains...

The breathtaking breeze must be swiftly kissing her forehead before thundering and rushing across her hair…
Her eyes still searching for the inevitable...

Well, I wouldn't be able to dip my brush in azure before reaching out to her for this unprecedented meeting..
The timezones have changed… so do the lifetimes…

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Parijat Banerjee