it was winter
when the gangways of life played hide and seek
giving it a frosty texture
with hazy illusions lingering longer
it was winter again
when silence stealthly snatched its soundless sleep
rendering it a shadowy hue
with towering triangles flat and fallen
it was winter
when the crumbs and crusts were all left back
burrowing it in caved cares
with nothing to know the pain it pays
7 comments:
a pissaro.
it was winter when Dream died
life killed poetry, we the accomplice
now carrying the dead weight of poetry's coffin
it was winter again
when summer visited the bylanes
of my monsoon life...clueless
torrents of life freezing in heat !
Anushil, thanks!
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