Subhra Roy

No place to hide, no pace to glide,
No stone to turn, no oil to burn,
No man to blame, no fire to flame,
No Thunder to steal, no wounds to heal,
...

...

Time melts down the wall
to meet the flow,
'fter spring comes the fall,
That's all we seem to know.
...

Stars lay still on the water
Till the breeze whistled through.
They bobbed on and off.
Till the twilight stealthily grew.
...

Cups are full and words are daint
Wit strives hard to make the feint.
She knows this and he knows that
Schism and ‘–ism’ make us a prat.
...