Winter pause ( after guardian)
Memory
does not forsake me
for relieving in your face and beauty
is a
bliss, which I enjoy viewing the
outside pouring stars; still snow
pollution stagnant every where.
Grass is green and so is desire
where amplifiers and trade
go on, trafficking people,
from morn till dusk where
dark descends in all corners.
Like Eliot’s mixing memory
and desire here youth and strong
desire for flesh, cathedrals and choir
play with cats and tender
toys;
wild peeps in with a zest of curiosity.
Hour passes by, flowers shrink at dusk,
when birds go back to their protective
caves,
silence
and serenity with lowing beams
sing along inward bidding good bye;
what is called winter sun on its own path.
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