Saturday, January 22, 2011

caprice

you held a wild-flower in your finger-tips,
idly you pressed it to indifferent lips,
idly you tore its crimson leaves apart...
alas! it was my heart.


you held a wine-cup in your finger-tips,
lightly you raised it to indifferent lips,
lightly you drank and flung away the bowl...
alas! it was my soul. 

-sarojini naidu.

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