She called me through a frosted window
but her words were trapped by the cold
I kept on going
frequently- ignoring the white breath that swirled out of her
Ocassionally, she asked me If I was alright
Even though, I knew-
I knew, the tributaries of the river
which flowed in her mind
were drying up
her curiosity shrivelled
to a place
people don't go
day by day
I watched her corpse in a grim valley of thoughts
where the sun
never shines
she
drifted
wondered
even pleaded-
for guidance
But
I was
too busy
too selfish
and in the end
simply-
too late