I don't like these winters,
Krishna.
The cold, cruel breeze
Brushes my hair
Pricks my skin
And sends shivers down my spine.
I hate it.
It does not let me
Wear my favourite skirt
Or eat my favourite mangoes.
I sit and endlessly
Shiver.
Just when today
I went out for a walk
In my old sweater
And sweatpants,
I saw
A ray of sunlight.
Bright, warm
And so inviting
Amidst the pale
Pale vicinity.
The ray reminded me of you,
Krishna.
But then again,
What doesn't.
YOU ARE READING
Radha's Krishna
PoetryRadhaRamana, The Beloved of Radha he is. He is everything, in everyone. He is sung, he is loved, he lives. But Radha? ______ Narrated in the voice of one of Hindu mythology's most powerful characters, Radha's Krishna is a collection of poems, an o...
