“Short lived season of comfort” – Nayana Nair

Any seat that I was comfortable occupying
was always unbearably cold.
People were right when they said
that something was not right with me.
For my flesh wanted to become fresh snow,
my bones the lone tree
under which sat my soul-
a child learning to count
the years of cold and whiteness,
an innocent, forgetful, and aging brain
living in a world
with no song, no spring, no rain,
to remind of all that is lost.

6 Comments

    1. I agree, such places can only give a temporary relief. But some time when we are tired and can’t take it anymore, such places end up saving us.
      Glad that you liked it ๐Ÿ™‚ Thank you so much ๐Ÿ™‚

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