Lovely Spectre Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

Lovely Spectre

Remember those days?
You used to hold my hand lest you fall.

Look at the creeper—
how it coils upward,
the same apprehension,
the same fear of falling.

Nature's instinct:
to rise,
to cling,
to hold the sky in its bosom

with remarkable depth
and clarity.

Lovely spectre.

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