The Frost Of Lost Memory

The Glowing Cold by Radhika Mukherjee

The Glowing Cold by Radhika Mukherjee

It is the cold spreading,

Leaching away the afternoon glow.

 

In waking dreams,

Certainties shatter, masks slip.

 

And the question of you and me,

Resounds—

 

In metaphor and jagged fragments,

That merge, collide and spin.

 

In the chill, in the alone,

An undulating rhythm builds—

 

The icy embrace of lost memory,

Rocking to its missing beats.

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