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Showing posts from December, 2016

Rising to the Sun

Rising to the Sun
steeping noise, hollowed voices
a ghost through fog, dense roads
barring the leaves fallen to their own crackle
drenched surface
nothing leaves footprints on an entrance
the gate creaks
before a new dawn
in complete envelope
of reclining hand in hand before fire
I sit and try to smile
more than usual
and play word games
find adjectives no more, nouns unknown
it must be the shrill of winter
I am waiting for
among thousand hundred naps
where among those memories
where among those paths
all those obvious talks, songs
a crescent moon of one's own continent
grows out, fades in birches unspent
in quarters where birds won't long fly
all the worries left
becoming a season, cold and misty
a silhouette of hills, grey horizon
limpid mesh of branches
rough contours of rocks and
relearning to climb.