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...
September 25, 2012 at 3:03 PM
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