I'm Groping Poem by MAHTAB BANGALEE

A piece of peaceful smiling-
In the beak of flying birds,
In the clapping of dancing leaves,
In the rhythm of running stream,
In the cold mind of wintry frost

Pitcher of date juice is calling-
The midday of dewy night,
The jazz music in rundown inn,
Homeless street sleepers of city,
The thirst of greedy onlooker ghost

In the befuddled blaring winter
Into the procession of snowy dark
By the light of lamppost I'm groping-
Groping the stairway to heaven
Sipping on the juice with the smile


©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
08/01/2023