My pillow of dreams whispered in the middle of the night.
Do not sleep and write your love story.
The companion must have sniffed something of my whereabouts.
Why I come late to the bed nowadays?
Yes, I cannot hide anything to my contemporary.
This was just a beginning with a lass.
She must be in her teens.
I have totally forgotten of my age
until the very first day when she called me uncle.
I was disgusted.
Truly I felt a contrast and a contravention the theory of love.
Our random visits to lonely parks
and we exchanged books and chats
nothing beyond that.
She gave me a birthday gift
Ken Kessey’s new edition ‘ One flew over the cuckoo’s nest’
and I gave her a second hand book of Kafka’s ‘The Castle’.
I was very cautious with my new name uncle
and the life goes on like a fairy tale without any obstacles.
*Dedication to an unknown lass whom I met only once in my lifetime.
nimal dunuhinga
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