In a whirlwind of curls~ Bhuyanshi Talukdar

Fog veils the shroud of LED bulbs,
Silver foiled ashes tell of infernal woe.
Willow trees weep remnants of dream,
Fumes of ache linger relentlessly
thru the neon streets.
A light flickered, couldn't last longer.
A fleeting chance of a cold breeze.
Like a noir movie scene,
a touch affair of
misty desire shatters
Welcome home, honey
A chapter that blooms,
in a whirlwind of curls.

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

You have set a moving vivid scene of a city in fog, flickering lights,love affairs, noir movies and such... welcome home promises of "whirlwind of curls"... love your portrayal... lots of vivid images...
Warmly, B

[John Sullivan]

Ahhh, those curls. A fine read, excellent language