Thursday, November 05, 2009

two fingers, they can do much:
cross for a wish, hold a pen, twist a ear, pick up dirty things, create a symbol for peace...

Cold winds...

When the cold wind blows,
It feels like a sting.
Hugged though I am
In woolen strings.

There is a gap in my window pane
It lets the cold wind through
I try to stuff it with newspaper and
Some rags of old cloth too.

But the cold wind is watching
This time she comes in from below the door
She looks me in the eye
As she engulfs my bare feet on the floor

Woolen socks and a comforter
I have switched off the lights
The heater is on a full blast
The cold wind, to the hot has a lost a war of might

But then I must get out for a reason
It's late and I am half asleep
Slippers on I step out, almost bare
And there - outside - the cold wind is waiting; she picks me up in a sweep.