Debanjan Dhar (14.6.1989 / Calcutta)
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.
Comments about this poem (Good Night by Debanjan Dhar )
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