Nibedita Deb
Our pristine love was
a mist
That hung on our minds
Thick clouds wailing amidst
Hunting wet
winds
Dying to screen off from their cotton hair
A rainstorm of
passion
On hearts, of love unaware
That terrible oblivion.
When at
once it rained, everything dissolved
Unknown became known, mystery became
clarity
And now nothing remains to unfold
All passion lost in
familiarity
