Friday, 10 April 2020

The New Season


THE NEW SEASON-poem

The New Season
Forty pale seasons have drifted by,
Dark halos crown my weary frame;
I walk this world with a sickened soul,
Guided by neither spark nor flame.
Through hollow days and lightless paths,
With trembling limbs and weary bile,
I wander on—a ghost of self—
Behind an artificial smile.
By-Lt.Karma Tshelthrim


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