and thus ends the day
with a warm cup of coffee in my cold hands
near the cosy fireplace I sit and write…
tis the cold gust of wind rushing through
the tiniest split , between that of the old wooden door…
While it shivers my spine for a moment
and freezes the slender fingers
secluded from your embrace this night.
Hasn’t the aroma of delicacies relished your appetite
tis music time of nature outside…
the fragrance of exotic flowers and the light smell of secreted
fir bark and pines…
wish I to walk amidst these forests
you beside me
treading on paths of time.