Paths of time

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

and us

treading on paths of time.

©Soumya V



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