Staring,
At the lone flame.
Bereft of color,
It burns out,
It's will to live
and breathes out
swirling smoke
that smells of dolor.
December creeps in
Like a snake,
With bare fangs
Pours cold poison,
Freezes the heart,
Between flickers
And beats.
The flames goes out
As chill sets in.
The warm smoke
relieved of memory,
untethered to flame,
flies away free.
© Abhijit Chatterjee