The air returns..
Returns the closing November chill.
Returns the same obscurity of vision.
On cold winter dusks.
As I traverse the same damp roads again..
The air returns.
Returns the closing November chill.
Returns the same insatiable aching.
In lone winter nights.
And I still wander in these dark corridors.
To hear the whistle of the train...
And as the cold damp air tries to carress my face,
with an effort to penetrate inside.
I put back the shell, the veil.
And walk away.
For inside there breathes,
A spark in this heart.
Longing to survive.
Fighting the cold, the mist.
And I fear the winds...
Why fear the winds when there is a spark in heart which longs to survive ? Never let the fear grip.
ReplyDeletey do you fear the winds?
ReplyDeleteWhen the chilling winds strike my bosom, we often negotiate consequences,
ReplyDeletemore often I am stubborn and it is the wind that deflects.