Trust the snowy tug, the signature breath,
the chalky sense of its harbinger,
when the bareness splays over the ribs, veins,
nerves and neural pavements,
As blizzards on the screen of memories
when the orange wholeness, the sepia wet,
brown tanned sandalwood skin of the wooden horizon
is awash with the deep solitudes of cold nights.
Believe in its crockery, its empurpled lustre
and somnolence of soft petulant breeze,
believe in the woollen wondrous knots
of fibrous fermented retreat.
Believe in how this blanketed
wintered monsoonal lone,
might peer through the mist
and cloud of rue, seeping through
the hollowed membranes in skeins of longing ,
into the darker, enlightening
Incandescence, the soothing symphony of love.
Latest posts by S. Rupsha Mitra (see all)
- After fall - 27th November 2020