Cold Ashes
The fringes of her dark lashes,
Rain soaked, drooping eaves.
Snug and dreaming, the days
On the clover fields.
The embers on a winter's motif,
Now smothered and died.
Cold ashes which cling to the soul.
The waves deep and painful,
The heart's cold too as dim grows the twilight.
Listening to the wings,
Flapping, ruffling up the waters in the storm.
(© 5/24/2015. Gautami Phookan. All rights reserved.)
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