A child of the wind am I; a shadow,
With every new light of sun slow fading,
With every new day flowering, a meadow
Built of bones of the dusts of past dreaming.
Oh death! Closer, closer to you my friend
Each passing day, to you, I do return.
Forgotten and oblivious I bend
Down the road whence your dark, seeing eyes burn.
Chain of spent exhales trail behind my steps,
Winds shy of touching death’s sultry breath.
Yet all my roses, all my gems he schleps-
Him, the grim, to adorn your friendless heath.
–And yet, and yet, that’s where I’m head. To you,
Old friend, with all things else, that once were born.
A sonnet of sorts?
© 2018 Sahana Narendran