Saturday, May 31, 2014

To death

Death my fickle mistress!
Where art thou.
For long have I searched your bosom,
And yet to kiss that hem.
Your glimpses are of bliss,
Dreams of the cold embrace.
Cold I do not mind,
Warmth was never for me.
I have sung this song for long,
I am tired of my nights.
Little smiles are me,
Those smiles I find not anymore.
Duties are never done,
Mirages always leave unsung.
What little I have seen,
You my lady, why art thou afraid of me.
Needs I beckon thee with deeds,
Or will a flint beckon thee.
I have no plans of living with you,
Your dominion either holds no glee.
Touch me once and forget,
Wither me inside and I may care not.
My lady intimate
When thou nurtured a kid,
What grouse thou hast against me.

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