Tuesday, January 3, 2012

The cold.

As the days draw in,
And nights get longer,
When life seems
To an extend,
Has it ever
Occurred to you
That the cold
Making its way
Into your bones,
And more painful
Than a sharp knife
Cutting through
Fresh baby-soft skin,
Is not exactly the cold
But memories from
A distant past, a past
Long forgotten
You pretend,
But hopelessly
Etched in your mind
In real, forever.

1 comment:

  1. madtez, i usually skip poetry. But this is so complex with its simplicity...

    and as usual of its 'aathmakadha-amsham'