Frost

What is this drug that lingers on? 

In smouldering ellipses and whirls of smoke

Some meth to doze the senses 

Ten bottles of burning coke 

It is not sickness that afflicts me 

But this nagging burning in my bones 

The gloom of yesteryears 

The water nymph’s last groans 

And one by one,these leaves fall 

One by one,till there’s but one last leaf 

And every morn,my eyes alight 

On a more pastel shade of harrowing Grief 

Maybe tomorrow, there won’t be 

A perfect sunrise to grace my eyes 

Maybe tomorrow, I won’t be

And yet,the sun would set and the world would rise. 

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