Treasure Island

Debanjan Dhar

(14.6.1989 / Calcutta)

Good Night


Futile bonding know their fate
So all that matters is the end.
Answers hidden but not sought for
May surface but reasons would not.

On a cold day, in a damp room,
In a corner you’ll find a locked chest.
The key to the chest may be buried
Or burnt down or fed to the birds

On a howling night you remain deaf,
Eyebrow clouds twist and frown.
Wise night touches your warm forehead,
The howling stops so you may sleep.

Submitted: Wednesday, July 03, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, July 23, 2013

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