From The Bard's Pen

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

- Hamlet

Saturday, January 1, 2011

A winter of loss...

I lost too much that winter...
a few strands of hair
a dictionary
a pair of mismatched socks


................. some precious grains of love

When summers came
and the covers went off the dusty couches
in unused rooms,
I found here and there
traces of a winter sun,
little pieces of love,
discarded peanut shells
and a few moth balls....

Each discovery
was a journey back
through the cobwebs of memories
and my blurred vision
would get a clear view

My hibernating soul
refuses to leave
the warmth of that winter

A winter of broken pencils,
torn pages
and fingers stained with regrets...

A winter where
I lost it all...