Passing the ‘Anwara Noor’
I promised to forget
What I have kept with thee
Or what madness obsessed you
Loving, in dream even, me.

Protima, believe me, my dear
No stone I unturned from then
To struggle to erase
Memories sweet or panic
From my oblivion I possess.

But standing before the mirror,
To have a copy of my own brand
Or some broken images of me,
Nothing I get visible
Except its betrayal I do see.

In a flash, then, my dearest known
And very dearly own,
Ninety thousand faces of
Thy lovely chicks appear before me.

Now, tell me, dear, how do I forget thee!

© Rahman Mostafiz