Dull As A Disease
I am sitting in my Dorchester lair,
Behind the door I do feel your mien,
When my poetic muse is in apt flair
You look real as life, my amore mia.
When I am surfing on the internet,
You are there in my click I envisage,
When I initiate to scribe sonnet,
I see you duly embossed on the page.
Sighing, wry face, lips as dry as a leaf
Your green blue deep eyes upraised fully,
Neither the death kills me, nor does the life,
Your very silence eats my soul and body.
Dull as a disease, I die of a thought,
Do not you fancy the same as I ought?.
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third place win
Contest: I Recall by Frank H.