Type- Writing Class
A.S.D.F……..he typed,
Retyped,
Again did it, again, again………
Tick….tick, tick….tick……minutes sicken.
Soon his nearby seat she took,
A new student with hairs black,
Just a glance,
Next day, a smile, sprouted silent roots.
She got up and turned;
Her shampoo smelling hairs patted
On his face,
By chance.
That night on red bed his,
Fancy dress contest of fancies.
In love birth pain,
He does roll, twist, turn…………
He is earlier student, day next,
In attires newest.
But she came never,
Vanished in the life clouds.
Slim…..brown…..gentle…..
Still lingers shampoo smell.
His solitude pokes the sensorium,
Recollections….tick….tick, tick….seriatim.
(Set against shy rural background)
FABIYS M V
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