I am waiting by a dark alley
In the Village that promised me, Sally -
A lamp flickers far off the north end,
Walking am I for months to make my ascent.

The roads riddled with *** holes and bends,
Towards that golden hue end;
Is this an urban mirage I see -
Am I close now to feel thee?

So many questions of anguish, burst my heart;
Yet stoic I stand in my rundown heels with dirt,
Tears run down as my head hits my pillow, I know not yet
If the universe conspires to fall in love with me.

-Sauvik Dey

A white cloak of a shy anecdote
A shy remembrance of a serene quote
Quoted some moments ago-
Of coquette and sensual bliss,
An innocence matted with a fresh breeze.

Those eyes could never lie;
With sand heaving down on her *******,
Her heart weeps for a caress
But all she gets is a rebuke:
Blending the imbroglio to deeper depths.

Late though it was; came by-
A hope; an outline of somber reversed,
Pristine of thought and complete with chivalry
A distinct epitah of orchids mellowed,
And a fragrance of an unkempt prose.

The moments of those transient powerlessness;
The time when she felt weak at her knees;
She was somebody’s love then,
Somebody’s queen she was
Such was the power of love.

Her heart at last sang her sangeet,
Shahnias and santoors draped her bond amused,
Trousseau she had was all beautiful,
For the first time; she had not been shy;
Her love was now somebody’s prayer.

-by Sauvik Dey.