Though the west wind is, often, wild,
It blows, sometimes, miraculously mild.
It seemed I waited for such a tender time,
To my stubborn friend to send my rhyme;
A friendship that, once, divinely developed,
Why by fogs of misjudgments got enveloped?
Thick relationships, they say, once, get split,
Ozone-layers-like harmful rays they emit;
His smiles turned grievous grim glances,
That might tear...
Continue reading...