Flipping through pages of an old book.. My fingers nudged some dessicated petals
Brushing through their veins, I could feel the warmth of your palms
As I sat on the bench at the side wall of the park
That rose- then bright and red- flew from somewhere onto my book
Raising my eyebrows, I could see you smiling over my head
Keeping on poking my angry face, you just placed it as a bookmark
Saying that each time I turn a page, this would give my heart a spark
Days flew by, so do years..
Today when I am again on that bench, flipping through those pages
I wish to have a rose to fall over from somewhere
picking up which, I could see you poking my angry face
and I could tell you each time I turned a page,
that bookmark did give my heart a spark
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Remarks