With a slight tinge of red.

And yet she rises from within the pyre

Sacred yet joyous, an enigma meant for me,

A curious aura, calms & settles all storms.

She enters this distorted fallacy, knowingly

Her eyes half closed, sparkle with the golden sun

Winds blow away the lines from her brow

Neatly tied strands fall across her face, in rhythm

Her tender steps & soft smile, try to cover for my sins,

that have passed.


Lucky yet undeserving, I disappear into the cloud of gloom,

I drag along.

A glance and I dread the virus I nurture within


Eagerly, I pray to my sanity that slips away

“Bring her back and let me see her again”.

And I do.



-Ajay Tawde.

© Copyright 2010 streetajay (UN: ajaytawde at Writing.Com).

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One response

  1. Vijay Patil


    January 5, 2011 at 2:41 pm

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