©Sudipta Bhattacharjee
Sometimes I feel a soul sits on a wooden chair
Spreading his hand on its wooden handle,
dip in subsconcious mind,
Spreading his legs infront
Leaning on its back legs.
If it having a life,
If it is alive, a live human being,
He will think about its image,
How he will sit at first,
Legs on another legs?
Or spreading his hands on a right knee
Like like a king.
A wooden chair will not thinking
a lot, it likes to sit
Like a obedient son.
finger on his lips,
Sits silently,
like a alone woman.
S