Surrounded by this heavy winter evening,
Dark clouds probed with occasional lightening,
Similarly your image flashes, and is gone.
Blowing hard across from the North,
Plucking at my soul saying, 'Life's not worth',
And I, unable to decide, fight my mind.
At last I decide,
These last lines I say to the image so divine,
It wouldn't be so, if you were mine,
So forever with the Northern my soul will hide.
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Comments about this poem (FATE... by Honny Zubedi )
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