"fritted" poems
The streets are empty.
Stars are shy.
I am accompanied by
Streetlights
and
Overcast sky.
Just me and my constant
Melancholy being fritted.
Remembering old days
And the dreams we knitted
I stare at the skyline
Spread ahead, then disappearing.
It's just my fear of infinite
That is interfering.
~ Sayan Sen
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC