in the snowless winter
books remained open until the winds closed them,
dreams remained unfinished.
and all I could see through is vagueness mingled with half-truths
I end up joining dots, on this train to nowhere
other times, I feel at peace with the nature - the ugly one
after all, the beautiful nature was a poet's creation
even the story-writers have been fooling us with stories that never happened.
the train halts to a stop
and I meet my loved one