Asmita De

November 24, 2004-India


Waiting for the butterfly to spread its wings/

To shed the drop of water off the leaf/

But such is the vice of beautiful things/

They tend to hold your heart on a leash/

Then in a blink of my eyes and flash of its wings/

It was gone and I didn't get anything/

But this is the rhyme and rhythm of human beings/

The moment when gone is when we feel everything.
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