Uncle's Game
It was a beautiful dayI was cheerful and gay
Tired of play
I want to dream in my own way
But on the bed uncle was there
He pulled me up and caressed my hair
He kissed me and murmured in soft voice
If you shout, I will do it thrice
Time and bloody bed sheets were only witness
Bed sheets were burned and time is ceaseless
I want to cry-cry and cry
But my soul is wounded and eyes are dry
Poetry by Aashish Thakur
Read 547 times
Written on 2006-06-16 at 07:04
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