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December
December 26, 2021
December skimmed through
a husky pace,
the melted wax candle
left a burned trace,
the letters I wrote
the pieces I played,
were not to be sent but
just to be kept,
for they were to be a secret
wrote to me,
by me,
it was nothing but a rhetoric phase,
never have I ever,
felt so tranquil
for the months that passed was a sordid boon,
December passes
keeping me unmoored,
kept me muted
in this arduous cold.
© Riya R., Ahmedabad, Other
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