Winter

The vanity of the sun waning swiftly,

Airborne birds tracing their dwelling,
The silhouette at distance quite unclear.

Candles burning still, no stuttering
Enduring the pain.
The tenderness of the hearth dwindling.

The frost on the pane melting
Imagery so fuzzy
Unveiled faces yet disguise at heart.

Damp and cold the surroundings encircled,
The appetite yet not satiated-
Heavy slumber dawn upon.

The moon so hoary,
Twinkling here and there
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep. 

 A poem inspired  by - After Apple Picking, Robert Frost

  

The Dawn of Autumn

-Tata Chaitanya

...rain drops knocking the window

Rolling down, disintegrating

Few seeping through the sill

Damp and cold fragrance lingered.

The birds were gone

Rodents deep in their hood

I was standing there desolate

Amongst the trees that stood still.

Silence reigned

Withered leaves gushing out

Blanket of moss pulled up

Dull and then dark night surfaced.

Snow covered lanes everywhere

Lost the way back home

Winds piercing

Eyes filled with despair.

Broken and shattered

Tears and agony took upon

Far away a star twinkled

Blooming there was a tiny life...