In that room of another
an endless drip of water
where even echo’s slumber
had solitude’s intrusion totter.
Unseen in quiet night,
lingering of dreams gone
but heard like Bengal light
memory of lightening dawn.
In that room of another
an endless drip of water
where even echo’s slumber
had solitude’s intrusion totter.
Unseen in quiet night,
lingering of dreams gone
but heard like Bengal light
memory of lightening dawn.
