A Kiss In The Cold Poem by Bijay Poudel

As the blanket of fog,
veils the radiating sun.
And warmth from the heavens,
suffer a journey adjourned.

My lady below,
sustains the chill around.
Her gaze finds no shape,
her ears hear no sound.

But she moves on brave,
pre-empting the chill.
Should her timid steps meet me,
for her heart-rose to fill.

For her trembling lips to,
break open loose.
For the insolent cold to,
propose a truce.

For a princess so hurt,
early dawn since.
Should meet in full glory,
her saviour prince.

But now that I wonder,
with gripping anxiety.
What if the mist leads her,
away from me.

What if it whispers?
a lie in her heart.
That my love is dead now,
in a cemetery vault.

What if it shatters?
not just her cheeks.
But the tremendous faith,
her dignity keeps.

To embroider a sentiment,
in poetry and prose,
Cannot reveal her smile,
cannot fill her heart-rose.

But before the mist conspires,
with malice and lies.
I shall reach her,
with a shine in my eyes.

And the heavens shall cut,
the gloom of the dawn.
The haze shall shed off,
to reveal the sun.

And like in old myths,
this love shall mold,
my lady and me,
with a kiss in the cold.

...my lady and me,
with a kiss in the cold.