Autumn closes its door,
and winter arrives
gently
like a train slowly pulling
into a station.
I take out the book
tucked under the mattress
and sit by the window
with a hot cup of tea,
my legs snug
inside the warm yellow blanket.
It is time
to allow myself
the rare indulgence
of drifting through the walls
of your mind.
I open the book slowly
with a look
of almost reverence,
and look at your words
lying there.
They stir before my eyes
like they’ve been woken up
from a deep slumber.
I gulp down
the soft words
of your poem.
They taste like deep sighs.
Outside, snowflakes dance
in the air,
and the trees are already wearing
a coat of snow.
The cold is enough
to freeze my fingers,
but my heart is aglow
with warm memories of us.
Until next winter, my dear.
Until next winter.
-Rupali Jeganathan | The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
Hi, everyone! It has been so long. I completely let my blog slide, because life got in the way. But now I’m determined to be active. I missed you all, and I’d love to hear how you all have been. 🙂
Lovely 💛
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Thank you. ❤
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Welcome 🙃
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The vivid description of tea and the book snuggling in the cold…compelling poetry!
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Thank you, Vishal. 😀
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Winters are made for poetry…
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True. It’s my favourite season. 🙂
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Beautiful. I’ve missed your poetry!
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Thank you. And I, yours. 🙂
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Hello Lady! 😀
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HI! I was just thinking about you two days ago, that I must read your blog. 😀
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Waha. This is amazing 😂😂😂
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Hahaha, its magic, is what it is. xD
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This!!!
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^_^
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Missed winters and missed your words! Really great piece 🙂
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Thank you so much. 😀
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Beautiful.
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Thank you. 😀
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