Frozen fields of withered roses,
tantalize me with ghostly smell,
Hidden deep within lovely proses,
Are stories of how I fell.
A loving, a secret look,
Hands grasping in silent night,
whispered promises were all it took,
to turn my face from the light.
Left alone, through endless waits,
my love trapped in this maze,
A loss determined by the fates,
my soul lost in your winter’s gaze.
© Manivillie Kanagasabapathy