The flowers that I bought for you,
That was your favourite once.
Now lying at your doorstep.
Daffodils and Rhododendron.
Waiting to be touched,
Waiting to adorn the earthen vase.
Once that I gifted you on your birthday,
Once that was precious to you.
Now lying at a corner on a rusty stool,
Dusty, untouched and ignored.
Like the flowers at your doorstep,
Waiting to wither and die.
But you are still sleeping in slumber
Thus you cannot hear the flowers cry.
~ Debashish Sarkar