Musing 22 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

Are the thirty springs too pressing for memory
To harbor the sweetest smell alive what remaining
Or pouring the wax suffice to keep the fire burning?
Every waking lays the lengthy chart of performance,
Severance from the weaving net of dreams to rude awakening,
Laughing fairy with eyes mesmerizing and perfume blowing
Being caught in the canvas net like butterfly at rose garden,
Dim demure so lively coming close to bridge the years
But lost in deluge while rafting in treacherous riverine brimming full,
No boats man was in sight to retrieve her selfsame being.