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Tuesday, September 3, 2019

Primitive Passion

On the sizzling sand of youth,
you played barefoot;
Unarmed and unmindful of the,
feary blows of time.

I know the thing that kept you alive,
in the heat of your prime;
I know what healed your wounds,
as an icy balm of time.

The passing streams of events,
gave you many intimations;
Of the upcoming harsh realities,
result of your game of passion.

Flowing across you and me,
were desires dancing untamed,
running wild in my nerves,
was my blind love and just pain.

Copyright © September DrNikhat Bano All rights reserved
Dr. Nikhat Bano
Topic(s) of this poem: lamentation
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COMMENTS
Nikhat Bano 03 September 2019
It's a poem about everything done as fun and sports without foreseeing its repercussion.
0 0 Reply

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