Friday, December 30, 2016

Confession 9 (Winter Night Blues)

Three winters have passed,
And the warmth of leaves
Being burnt to ashes,
Sound of children
Playing late in the evening,
Smell of the smoked meat
In the distant greens,
Takes me three winters back.
We trod different paths
That's diverged into
Worlds that know nothing
About the other.
It was the warmth of the leaves,
Helping me get back my senses
While taking away all I had;
Smell of leaves burnt to ashes.

©Chandrajit Mitra
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