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.
And,
Like an endless reprieve,
From thousand miseries,
I'll carry it,
Unto my grave,
To repose,
With you,
Still inside me!
A very little of you,
I solicit,
To let me cradle it,
In me,
As if my heart is a womb.
And,
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 …
I shall be …
No comments:
Post a Comment