Wall - Poem by Sanjukta Nag
We painted our wall orange in autumn
Dipping the brushes into white smiles.
You said, 'The fire of our navel
Will make it vermilion red by winter,
When the moonlit quilt will be torn
By passionate silhouettes of us.'
It is spring now my darling,
The wall is blemished with dark gray.
And my instinct has realized it well,
Walls are never meant to be decorated
But to be broken with arms of love.
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