Your Selfish Death Poem by Boudhayan Mukherjee

Sunlight descends from the distant tree
Now let me not remember you
Rather let me see the yellow light of gulmohar leaves.

Color sings, the wind is real fire, a few stones
Tremble in each other's embrace.

A flute of sword in my wordy scabbard.

Put me among the cumulus, oh heavenly demons.
The day stirs in every pore of the trees.

Yet I'm sad with pitfalls of desire and silence unsaid
I don't want to remember you and your selfish death.