The rough breeze

The cold, chilling, gusty breeze,

Blew rough creating an unease;

It had an intention to freeze,

The life in the leaves and trees;

The breeze was so determined,

Being harsh, it did not mind;

It hurt the heart full of love,

Learning to fly like a baby dove;

The breezy eyes were cold dead,

With no love dew tear to shed.

Copyright 2018 Chitkala Mulye (Chitkala Aditosh)

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