Miles after miles I run,
To make those eyes proud...
Those moist eyes of dreams undone,
I ran to escape; but not through the shroud...

They question my efforts, my strength,
My return; concealed beneath the sighed breath.

I fail, I fall, I slip on the ground,
Behind those mirage and miracles, when I hound.
I tried to stand with a new crease,
And rush to touch the cords of fleeting dreams.

The frisky fingers quiver in doubt,
A tired sleep wrap the forgetful sprout.

Wake up! Run! You must escape.
You are not to design mistake.

The extinct feet still run faster and louder,
Only to make those unhappy eyes prouder...

© ইচ্ছেpa लोक