Vacant Poem by Sankhajit Bhattacharjee
Vacant
At times my mind becomes vacant;
my hands become empty.
The sheet of paper remains white;
ink blots on the bed-cover.
If velvet petals of rose are the imagination,
its thorns are dullness.
At times the thorns get struck in my heart
and my imagination gets lost deep inside the earth.
Monday, February 20, 2023
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4/28/2024 2:01:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
