CHILL

The sun bows down, as graceful as ever,

Mist creeps around, its origins are known never,

By and by, chill settles upon the plains,

Every beating heart searches for shelter, deserted are the lanes.

Night descends slow and steady, brings a calm,

That soothes nerves and wounds, acting as a balm,

Every pain undergoes scrutiny, love is found,

Darkness casts fear, that is inwards bound.

The black veil covers all, it spares none,

The shiny, green patches, they are all gone,

Tears come out of the grass, as they bear the night,

They blink and beam in the morning, when the sun brings bright.

The ground, the very soil is devoid of warmth,

Its alien, cold and unfriendly, mist is in swarms,

The air is still, anticipation is high,

The wait for dawn is prolonged, under the wintry sigh!