I wanted a beautiful girl,
The good thing was that,
She wanted me as well...
I loved a young woman,
The strange thing is that,
She thought she loved me too..
But her love was limited,
Really disabled was her love,
And she could understand it not.
I went to her home,
Slept on the bed,
Made of Kashmiri willow..
She came as I slept,
Kissed me on the lips,
Woke me up anticipating more...
What ensued is just history,
It forms a part of my story,
An unforgetable memory..
A memory that digs out,
From my heart into blood,
Off my brain into a tumour.
HP Poem #1300
©Atul Kaushal