The storm roars outside
reminding me of the night
we walked hand in hand
when the deafening wind
brought leaves and flowers
upon us.
Whenever I try remembering
that night,
my memories get obscure
images fade and voices dwindle.
Whenever I try evading my
thoughts to concentrate
on what I’ve lost,
the Philosopher smiles
and urge me to drink…
a glass more of wine.
Blood Red so as the reflection
of my face in it
would be of something
that I can forget.
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.. loved it really much!
beauty ….
Nice one , Manu .
utham