She and I confessing
Whispering secrets
That we don’t know.
A rose bends,
Thorns tear my heart apart
Separation eats the art
Out of the blue melancholic sky.
Heart is a big toy
Found by a child in a fair.
Only that child grows
And goes too near
To the waterfall,
And the toy drowns.
Tell not that it is trivial
When a toy drowns,
It can sink like that heart.
A tin drum goes soundless
When the game player rests.
Love is a gambling house,
It is just that hearts are not for sale.
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© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor
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