Red Stain
I saw the golden morning fly away
Holding the eagle's wings just around noon
The warmth of the afternoon touches my reflection
And running in the lap of the falling afternoon
The silver afternoon is drawing patterns of twilight
In the immortality of contented nature
I am in my idol in downright darkness
in the tide of existence that is mortal land of sand, cement, and gravel
Painting a shameless political red stain on the translucent grassy canvas
Still, I stand like an iron skeleton
-18.12.2020 Chittagong
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