Krishna Chakravarty
Some wishful words on a paper
And an upturned bottle of ink
Sits in dread of the bearer of doom
A pretty lady in pink
As the days pass on
And the mounting weariness grips her at night
She gathers her dwindling courage again
To write by the faint source of light
Those countless nights of fright
And some worried prayers on her lips
Struggling to lay them on a paper
Words which never found the way to her fingertips
Oh! The blissful words of love
And the innumerable promises that were made
Now fighting to remain alive
In her moments of feelings betrayed
Chaos reigning in her heart
And a deepening uncertainty in her mind
How she wishes she could pen down everything
And leave her worries far behind
Oh! What was that?
The sudden sound of footsteps made her look up in alarm
Alas! It was only the baker's boy
Too little to bode her any harm
And thus still weary of the night
Picking up her bottle of ink
Sits in dread of the bearer of doom
A pretty lady in pink