• Like T.S. Eliot’s men
The fortune teller had told him about me,
before he fell in love with another woman
Who resembles him
Beautiful and useless
And like all those before her,
The smoke of patience did not mark her forehead,
She did not rush through years of minutes made from broken glass
And a fragment did not take refuge in her right shoulder.
They walked whispering,
While the fortune-teller sighed and repeated:
It is not as clear as it should be
Years after,
I saw him,
Hollow,
Covered with rust and ash
When confessing,
Splinters scattered as he said:
– I wish the clarity were that clear!
ঢাকা
০৪:১৮ অপরাহ্ন, বৃহস্পতিবার, ২২ মে ২০২৫, ৮ জ্যৈষ্ঠ ১৪৩২ বঙ্গাব্দ
শিরোনাম :
Faleeha Hassan
-
- আপ : ০৭:৫১:০৪ পূর্বাহ্ন, বৃহস্পতিবার, ১৫ অগাস্ট ২০২৪
- ২৩৫ ভিউ :
পঠিত
