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I met grief on my way to sorrow.
We got talking about loss
and the associated sadness.
I told her that melancholy
suits the palate of a poet.
I don't know whether she agreed
or not as she kept her gaze averted.
I don't even know whether my
thoughts are influenced by studies
or they are present just like this
dull afternoon within the day.
I shared a disappointing drink
with her at the bar of vintage
before we parted our ways.
I shook her hands, turned around
and felt death in those pale palms.
This is the labyrinth of sorrow,
this losing of the sense of loss,
just like the passing of the days.
Copyright © 2024 Amit Shankar Saha
All Rights Reserved
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Amit Shankar Saha is the author of three collections of poems titled Balconies of Time, Fugitive Words and Illicit Poems. He has won numerous awards including the Wordweavers Prize and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Griffin Poetry Prize, and the Best of Net anthology. His website is www.amitshankarsaha.com
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Thank you so much, Amit, for this gorgeous poem! (On the Jetpack app, not all the features in the post are visible, but they are perfect online. Strange.)
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This is such an interesting poem.
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A beautiful piece, congratulations for your publication. I loved your work. Many thanks, Joni
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