Brownish hue of
Suffering settles
On top like fumes
From chimney
Silently embraces
Heart, moist
Vapors tickling
From eyes, a
Loyal companion
Of poets of my
Kinds, between
Pen and paper
Lies a gentle heartache
A tingling pain
Mysterious melancholia
Sitting with me on
The dusty couch
Sipping wine from the same
cup, air filled
With soft notes of melody
Sung by suffering.
Tanya Shukla