A couple is at the togetherness table.
And a lonely coffee cup fumes.
Mist steams through winter.
Wind keeps its hands in pockets.
And the ground listens to the feet
write a story — a doctor's prescription
for true love — with a half life.
And a lonely coffee cup fumes.
Mist steams through winter.
Wind keeps its hands in pockets.
And the ground listens to the feet
write a story — a doctor's prescription
for true love — with a half life.
3 comments:
Nice ! What's the half life of true love ? Infinite or Infinitesimal ?
@Avi
Thanks!
Half-life of true love? : Well, it depends :)
Beautiful. The poem seems as if it its flipped inside out, almost like a pillow cover. The perspective of the underbelly. I don't know whether I'm making much sense. I would love to discuss this with you.
If you find time, do read:
http://cosmicrevelations.blogspot.in/2012/04/final-serving.html
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