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Fog, cold and misery


Foggy evening,

chilly cold,

shivering skin,

ruffled feathers,

lone soul,

trodding on the tip,

homeless lying on the pavement,

in search of the blanket,

and a single wish,

to save itself from the icy sensation,

shaking and coiling,

human snake is a bane,

in the deadly winter whistle,

torn apart,

craving for a hot drink,

not a dime to spare,

the palace’s luxury,

fancy and colorful blankets,

not a thought for the miserable,

clinking expensive scotch and brandy.

 

With love

V

 

 

Author:

Work-in-progress, seeker and bundle of contradictions. Stubborn and Refusal to grow up and constantly in search of myself, I blurt it out on my space. Drop in and share some love. Indian by choice.

One thought on “Fog, cold and misery

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