Tuesday, 22 December 2015

My Panacea!

My Panacea!

Chisel out,
A very little of you,
I solicit, 
To let me cradle it,
In me,
As if my heart is a womb.
Like an endless reprieve, 
From thousand miseries, 
I'll carry it,
Unto my grave,
To repose,
With you,
Still inside me!

What a happy woman,
I shall be …

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