It was raining again
Rain that deludes solitude
Solitude that imposes a grinning self-assurance
The void's rheology that grasps again
And on such a night
I miss your floral scarf
And the imaginary brush of your hair
On my delightful eyelids, that would not shut
For the vision and touch of such purity
Solitude is restiveness i must submit to
But the flurries of thought of your nearness
The sting of time, the cloud of eiderdown
Where alien sickness pervades
And words , like randomness keep on pouring
Till the candle burns out, the last vestige of warmth