That bloom every spring,
The scented wind on my face,
And my eyes start to sting.
You walk amidst a shower,
Of bullets, every starless night,
Brave and tall you stand defending,
Everything that is right.
My nights here are neverending,
I count the stars and search the moon,
For a trace of your forgotten face,
Hopelessly hoping to see you soon.
You are fighting a secret war,
Your days are a hidden haze,
When will peace descend my soldier,
Over your troubled gaze?
We will hold hands then,
Laughing and crying together,
You will string flowers in my hair,
While I tickle you with a feather.
We will bury the bullets forever,
To grow white blossoms every spring,
Your gentle eyes would kiss my face,
And my eyes will start to sting.
© 2009 Rituparna Das
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