I see my father reading books in the sun
All day all night
And the horse is running on the horizon, perhaps looking for that red flower,
Mom has been in the kitchen ever since
Today so many days are about seven thousand years
They are together
Only the redflyer between them has gotten old with time.
.
Forest fire
Mowgli's red flower is a strange longing in my chest,
As a child, I used to understand the lights of the lampposts in the neighborhood
The signature of daylight departure has fallen.
Those days are old
Sun, back, reading books, my father, the smell of sun from the wings of birds
The kitchen girl is constantly squealing
Delete all from the ultra-modern classical lifestyle.
Even then it was evening and no name at all
After washing my hands and feet, I am drawing my next life on the pages of arithmetic
Mom says it won't be by you
In the evening, we sing
Old harmonium, Rabithakur on mother's neck
I see the wildness
"Hair is the nightmare of her dark side"
Wanting to scream
My red flower is getting lost.
.
Poems are recited in halls arranged across digital platforms
Red Flower pronounced on my horizon,
From that muffsball I am on the city page today,
When the hands of the clock tick the hair of age
Like a continuous mourning,
Behind the flute is the departure of light in the twilight.
The young lady of the night is wearing outer garments
I still look at my father
I hear my mother's voice
All is lost
Find the Red Flower today.
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