The white clock on the winter wall
Strikes twelve.
The midnight blue sweeps over the steep roofs
With its glittering finishes.

I write here,
Amidst the consuming cold,
With the blue ink dotting my fingers
And skiing over the off-white diary I had kept
A secret for years.
Waiting for you;

Waiting for you,
Your call, your text, your single handed 'hi.'
Dyed in deep red
I dance my heart out onto the pages
Waiting for you.

I cease to live-
Forgot day, forgot night
The rhythm of my day-to-day sight
I breathe you- in and out, and...