Could I Sell My Youth?

My bicycle takes a brake
leaving childhood empty
half sold.
Heathen dream arose in between…
napping gap.
My horizon been decoded
and coding a false perception.
Could I sell my youth?
Could I sell my plough, pen
language, my bicycle…?
They think of buying,
themselves almighty.
I can’t sell a suicide note
of a plant
by thousand dollars,
a canal of thirst even.
You may win with your mouse:
But Summer snatches
all the clothes
leaving a jacket only
bare branch of Winter.
~Pradip Kumar Nath
Kolkata, India

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