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Tuesday June 28, 2022

On that Moment of Horripilation when Our Cold Feet Touch

How beautiful is the thought of you!
Early morning a stray chill flies
like a harbinger of winter.
It buries itself in my head
and gets cozy and warm between the folds of my brain,
under the cover of now and then
our cold feet touch,
memories horripilate
like apparitions from the dead.
I try to purge all thoughts of you,
the mind becomes empty as if nothing else exists.

Under the simmering surface of reflection
there is nothing absolutely selfless
that is not absolutely selfish.

(From: Fugitive Words)

Watch this space for an interview of the poet taken by poet Sunil Bhandari.


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