The laces of your fashionable jogging shoes,
With a glistening in your eyes,
That put our love in the morgue,
As if love was a race just to win a medal,
My mouth was filled with the dust of your words,
Like a modern prep student, I nodded,
The April sky laughed,
The blossoming flower’s fragrance screamed,
In the most beautiful municipal park of city
My bed’s arm welcomed,
The puzzled street lamp covered with
Chase of moth’s loveLaughing on the post-modern notions
Your words are true perhaps,
About the finiteness of all things,
Even of love, as you said,
Eternal is just, an ancient word
But my heart shouted, you know,
One thing is there, that still last forever,
And I changed myself into dust,
To make my love everlasting.
(c) Copyright 2016 Hardeep Sabharwal
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