Poetry

Like a sorrow at the end of a smile
You came to borrow my pangs a while
Like a dew from winters of rapture
Fell in me, smeared and capture
So, December you‘re my winter
Of joy; from the valleys of foster.
Now on the eve of the New Year
On the dusk of this parting hours
Tell me…?
Where should we meet again?
Like an elegy to depart!
Is it in the aisles of a strange era?
Or in the mysteries of
An upcoming birth!
Or on the beautiful shores of Oblivion
Adieu –December till we meet
Till then you are my prosecuted dream
In the jails of ages!