Poetry By Jannatul Nayeem

A star got rest

Sitting in the paradise of dreams,
I wrote a letter to you in the spring,
Saying that you would understand
the story of my tender heart,
Oh no! What a difficult time! Apart!
In the literal format
and the analysis of your momentary intelligence,
You made the letter worthless.
The sharp knife of our white conscience,
All sorts of conversation and thoughtfulness,
The powerful, rapid three-month period of drunkenness,
Gradually, all these became forbidden,
Thrown into a black and ornate chariot.
Then they got you burst into protest,
As a result, a bright star fell silently and got rest.

Copyright@Jannatul Nayeem