Drifting away with the winter breeze
yellow brown leaves.
Fading away like poetry
read sitting on old creaking wooden chairs.
Wilting away like spring flowers
gloomily blooming in December’s wrath.
Dust filled narrow lanes of my youth
bring me to the silver tresses
of antiquity long cherished.
The Sun will shine its golden light
the moon its milky luminescence
who have lost and now have risen.
Only love for those
who have left and for those who have arrived.
(December 16, 2013)