That Mohair Scarf


Every week day he waited,
at the train station for her to come,
So that he can see one glimpse of her,
before his day begun.

That day she didn’t come for a long time,
He craned his neck in all direction,
To get her dwindled sight.

And when he was busy,
Prying the crowded path,
Her distinct fragrance,
His senses caught.

He turned around with an anxious heart,
Her mohair scarf gently brushed his eyes,
And by the time he could got rid of the blind,
She was long gone.

Copyright Β© Shantanu Baruah

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