Can The Dead Never Come Back? Poem by Snehal Bhosale

Woven with care, the silken twine,
the bonds of love, of man with man.

The desire to give and desire to thank,
the desire to live every ounce of time
But the ultimate time, desires no life.

The death approaches like a lumberjack,
and saws the bonds of love and like,

My heart pines and my heart cries
my heart weeps and craves for the dead.

Dawns the sun with blissful memories,
and enroaches the night with the knowledge of emptiness.

But the mad love in the heart
often over the seven seas, a ray of hope in kingdom of dark.

A craving heart and a moistened eye
Questions the creator,
'to give thine heart dewdrops of smile,
can the Dead ever come back? '