And so he weaved in the Jasmine
Through my hair
And began to caress every strand
Breathing in the fragrance of the flowers
As he would every night;
And as they were crushed beneath us
We breathed in their death
And were more alive then
Than ever before.
4 responses so far ↓
Rambler // November 5, 2009 at 1:56 pm |
welcome back…
death, crushed, ah too much
chennairamblings // November 14, 2009 at 2:12 am |
Thank you Rambler. And nice profile pic (have to admit noticed it post your post
)
Sai // November 6, 2009 at 5:02 pm |
Nice comeback piece, poetic evocative.
chennairamblings // November 14, 2009 at 2:12 am |
Thanks Sai