Author: writerI THOUGHT of your beauty!
Made out of passion thought!
Is in my bosom.
O my dear, O my sociable dear- I know
more than another!
You look smart and noble,
And with your smooth face and bosom
Delicate in color as ice blossom.
If once meet you! Surprised!
But after save by an evil chance
Call me first through the gate
After a while, the folk there spy me
You'll say-' My friend, Only my friend'
Comes from Bangladesh.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sat Jun 27, 2009 10:08 AM CST
About this poem:
...would expect a real friend so far from here and the words are only my imagination......Dont laugh please...
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