Words



Words are pitiless enemies
They haunt from places, far away
where one has left them
in half dazed moods.

They linger on your evenings

and over the dinner plates,
Even when one has oared
to other shores
of spring and summer

As I ride back to my

Original wrath,
I am clueless of my sin,
taken in.

Leaves fall and lands freeze

As another day dawns.

Comments

deeps said…
maybe it calls for a prologue...

Popular posts from this blog

Confession

The Hour Before You Commit Suicide

The Loss of a Pet Cat