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by Subhadeep Bandyopadhyay
(Kolkata, India)

Those who were once with me,
Are not now to share the twilight,
The songs of autumn and smell of harvest,
And gentle walk by the riverside,
When childhood came they were my first support,
In youth they became the first observers of my love story,
And in middle age they were my friends at tea,
And now in old age when the definition of home has surpassed boundaries,
I still search them in works of Picasso, in Bethovens tunes,
In Mona Lisa's midas touch and Giza's dome,
But they invade my dreams as the shrieks of burning humanity,
In Morning azaan for the petty souls,
As dismantled world trade centre,
As the merciless killings in France,
They say life is not what you want to be,
Life is also not what people want to see you as,
Life is to lead as if there is no second life!


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