I don't know
How many times
I took my purse out of my pocket.
I don't know
How much money
I spent from it.
I saved and spent
thousands of rupees.
It kept carefully
many postal stamps.
My I-Card
My identification
My loose papers
Addresses of my friends.
A long piece of time has passed
I don't know
How many times
How many days
How many months
How many years.
But today,
I remembered suddenly
that this black leather purse
YOU bought for me
with a great love.
When it got in to my mind
I shivered
and the black leather purse
also shivered.
The non-living black leather purse
came to know
the language of love...
Thursday, September 10, 2009
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mai tuhadia boht khubsurat kavitavan pardi rehndi han...pl. contact me....rozy ahuja
ReplyDeletecontact on my email....rozyahuja@gmail.com
ReplyDeletebeautiful poem....
ReplyDeletegr8 depth!
ReplyDeletewonderful!!!so sensation ...
ReplyDelete