Yeshwant

Sweet breath of the North wind your drugged vapors waft willowing these gnarled bones like a timeworn oak bows down and cracks A clandestine approach coy midnight caller whispers. Your cool breath beyond an azure bark, softens the humid afternoon heat... brushing blush on blanched cheeks. Forlorn ice slit bedroom, a chill march, shaped by the rough caress, a hollowed lip, faded the candles: frigid wind screamed across wilderness .... Dust slapped my face, as the wind roared. A waxy mist flop, across peacock leaves float, a breeze bleached, torchwood sculpture: winds of change started to blow.... Left behind traces wind glossed souvenirs glazing trails in your wake mirage of mischance O, perchance to inhale once more the sweet breath of the North wind