The wood savours its taste
Of the tasteless liquid.
Fireplace dreams
of its malignant kingdom
In the heavy cold downpour

I, rise as a sparrow,
To drench my non existent feathers.
My eyes dilate and reverberate
as a nonchalant child seeking
an incomprehensible vision.

The trees are showering,
Land is drowned in its brown ashes,
My dog peeks at the drops by the window.
His tongue is restless as my heart.

To stay, indoors
And bear the longing
Of this cold touch.

© Shashank Bhardwaj