My brittle world – a winter tree
cold and grey on a heaving sky,
colourless eyes fixed inwardly on her.
Frozen branches twisted, agonised,
longing too much for her warmth.
But winter has sealed a casket round my heart.
I melt a hole in my frosted window
to peer at the world
I, prisoner of distance,
exiled from her summer rays,
in a barren place
where thoughts delve,
search for passion’s roots that would sink deeper
till no deeper depths exist.
My brittle world – a winter tree longing for spring to share with thee.
