Warmth is within

yusuf warmth is within.jpg
Photograph by Troy Ignacio

Cold leaves rustled beneath my feet,
As I chased the dying sunlight,
For if the blue spread too soon,
There won’t be any refuge in the night

Under a streetlight, in golden haze,
Sat a beggar scantily clad,
Smiled as he saw me,
but I had none to spare,
So I sat beside him for the time I had.

“Sorry sir, but that’s a secret,
You’ll have to search for yourself,
I know what you wanted to ask,
But I can’t be of any help”

To my surprise the poor man saw,
Right through me and my muse.
The shiver I hid under the covers and sheets,
The nights forth seemed a ruse.

The blankets had no answer,
So I shed them to feel the cold,
It condensed my breath to words,
That shouted the secret untold.

Then I turned towards the silence,
And listened to it, in awe.
And in the deafness of my world,
Spoke things I never saw.

Cold leaves rustled beneath my feet,
As I walked away from the sunlight,
I waited for the dark to drown the blue,
And sink me into the night.

And under the streetlight in golden haze,
Sat the beggar, scantily clad,
Smiled at me, as he saw,
The answers I sought, I had.

I looked up at the grey,
And smiled Silly for long,
The warmth I sought in things,
I knew where it belonged.
The winter gave away the secret,
Through the blood that warmed my skin,
As I put my hand on my beating heart,
It whispered, “Warmth is within.”




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