Sunday, 30 March 2008

Blooming Snow

Trembling frame;
His anemic soul-

Trailing along,
Blood spattered-
Leaving behind,
Red prints,
On the snow-

The winter chills,
Cloaked his self-
With warmth.

The snow-
It held his weight,
A support.

Walking on,
The misty December's morn,
It turned cyanotic -
His soul thirsty,
Frost settling all over.

Aching limbs,
He held on-
Pulling himself up,
He walked-

Carrying the Corpse,
Onto the graveyard,
Hidden under-

Waiting for the sun drops,
To melt the snow,
To bury his Love-


(The snow, had after all, Bloomed-


...Stained, in his Love.)

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