10
At around is the time of the year, I would actually want to talk of auburn tones transcending to the cooler blues and greys, the tender endurance of the night stretching itself like ends to an old blanket that unknowingly lulls you in your sleep, of love, of skies, of sorrow and of death and rebirth. However, as yo would guess, I barely ever have time to write anything outside assignments, study beyond academic texts and eat and sleep for entertainment purposes only. This is a poem I w...
