Solitude
Where are the words
that forged the tale into life?
The syllables green and grey,
that grew out of mists
greener, and made
their way into the closets
of our hearts,
the sounds collapse
along the fringes of molten nights;
the blessed sins and signs
lie crusted on the floor,
while the moment falls
and crumbles in the caverns
of our hearts.
Copyright © Pragna Paramita Mondal | Year Posted 2010
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