Relic of a Twinkle
They are not just creases on skin
They are rivers crisscrossing her face
That once carried her youth
Where into flowed
Tributaries of joys and sorrows
All the time cutting deep onto her face
Till the high tides of yore
Got choked by silts and were no more.
Look close to find a story on each wrinkle
And to find in her eyes relic of a twinkle!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Added by Poetry Lover
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