Tuesday, October 27, 2009

The city will turn a
emerald hue this winter,
and memories shall become
only just become a windsong.
Your quaint blue-black eyes
will be the music
I never played.
And, the burnt aftertaste
of your embrace
will be my sky filled
with silver stardust.

The city will be different this winter.
There shall be life
wherever you go.
There shall be sunshine.
There shall be song.
Our song.
Your song, and mine.

Come winter, and the city
shall but be a lovenote -
intoxicating, fervent with passion,
and unexplored.

1 comment:

  1. Hi, A very random cascade of blog search introduces me to your blog and impressed by your writings,I am prompted to put in this comment!

    The poem (though Untitled) reflects both an anticipation and a conclusion, and the way you have put them separate (yet entwined) shows your poetic brilliance. Kudos!!

    (As an afterthought,the poem would have been a little more effective, had the last line would have been in Title Case...And Unexplored..jus a personal observation..)

    Keep Up the good work. Besto!

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