February 6, 2010


I plan to start a series of poems, based on colors. This is the first of the lot.

Her touch, so cold,
Even at her warmest,
She freezes my depth.


Clad in pure white,
Even in the dark,
She makes you shiver,
From open head to covered toe.

Forever having her way,
Blanketing everything around
In her whiteness,
And her purity,
She makes my world stop.

Her touch cold,
She robs your warmth.
Even your slightest touch
She will melt away,
Leaving just her tears.

I now hold on to those tears,
For those are all I have
A memory of a beauty
In white, pure,

Dated: 6th February 2010
Location: Pittsburgh PA
Pictures: Self Shot


V Rakesh said...

Welcome back! Its good to see you back to blogging! You've been gone too long!

And, hope to see more updates, often!

Rajaraman said...

seems to be having spare time and trying to have fun again.
Now I have thing to work over and comment