Unread pages.
The prominent ink mark and the
Book mark
have their equal
say now,
Furthering your
agile mood,
What for?
Imprinting your reflex
.
There are so many fallen petals of Rose,
Still their
fragrance permeating,
Like Life
still hangs on , but they are
merging with The
dried leaves,
Autumn’s victorious
banner holding on.
True, they are like
so many unread
In Literature, untreated, more,
not exposed to life.
One life
is not enough.
Now your
silencing voice
Ensembles with the ambers of
Sun going
down the other side.
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