A Longing For Winter
The flowers in the vase, in the curtains, in the past are in full bloom.
I want to summon winter. I want leaves wilting at my sight.
My eyes haven't been cold in a while. I have yet to see this valley painted white.
A forest has been claimed to you. It will flock to your feet.
There is a paper lying somewhere with your name on it. It is yours.
Some things were written in my voice. I ask you to read it that way.
I speak to the glass some days and understand what must happen for it to speak back.
When you come from your catacomb, tell me you came for me.
Pick your shining stone and aim at the smallest window.
I want to be alive again.
Poetry by Praveen Bhusal
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Written on 2018-08-04 at 15:36
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