Cellphone Poetry #45: Nirmalendu Goon

A storm springs up with scudding clouds
In the forest flowers bloom
I’ll be married, set up home
A bride’s been found and I’m the groom
I escape at the auspicious hour
To distant London, to this room

Let nature’s spirits go to hell
At least the girl’s been saved

3 thoughts on “Cellphone Poetry #45: Nirmalendu Goon

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