From under the blanket,
My cold stare clashes
With frost ridden boughs,
Sweeping down the panes;
Breathe wells up to ceiling
As cackles of birds drop low,
Suspicious of empty lanes;
Whirling dawn falls thick
In its white fluffy robes and
Creepers shake heads in rhythm
With helpless sighs of the wind,
Waking up from numbness;
The ripples upon placid water
Of the pond reaching and
Leaving edges in swollen circles,
Then I feel the heat dropping,
Upon roundness of my damp face.
All right reserved @Tiku 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it was a nice poem thanks for shairing
Honored.