Vintage

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The new year swings between crowded trees
Flashing sunlight on my fingertips
And with bright thought bubbles in the breeze
Hovering over my greying head
I shut my eyes and recollect
How lopsidedly our love grew
With the falling snow whitewashing
The fields of youth we struggled through.

And,here, blowing rings of hope, I stand
At a rain-lashed airport ,in your absence
Waiting for our once missed plane to land
Holding your memory and silence
Like an ancient,priceless goblet
Filled to the anxious brim
With vintage verses and whispers
And your red lipstick on the rim.

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