A brief rueful smile
It rises like a shivering winter sun
And sits on the sewn lips like a rusted diadem
When the reign of understanding befalls
And eyes are a continuous dirge
As a dream fell from its spire of belief;
A dream like a child’s innocence;
When it wants to hold the glow of fire
Or ensnare the moonshine.
The shattered thing, now, knows;
There was no Aubusson rug waiting below,
To cherish its glass body,
To treasure the fragility of a crystal hope.
Who would’ve known that
Love, once out of its lofty guise,
was merely a burning driftwood,
Pretty flames,
Poisonous smoke
Yet it was not poised as a fulminant kill…
First, the yonder storm grew nigh
Then clung to the windowpanes
One could feel inly
Dagger like snowflakes choked dancing jasmines
Butterflies’ tawny wings devoured by ashy mists
Now one comprehends …
The truer sting of knowing
Then, only then,
It rises as shivering winter sun
That brief rueful smile !


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