Snowflake's are getting ready, evolved with not-so-dusky

rather than, a cold blanket covers the whole reign

as in the clock retrieved forth & back, my boots

churned in the wooden floor, I look for my days back

where emotions weren't rare folks, a spine of dampy scents

fill the air to creep out the nostalgic roasts.

*

Everything's deemed with silence, only the beating

Of hearts can be heard.

I remembered the wooden floor, where we used to sit

to chit-chat, maybe finding warmth in each other's embrace

now I don't open the heating burns,

for myself I know, I'm already burnt with the flaming lips.

So, I light a candle in each day to remember

my old childhood, where with the melting waxes

the fresh scents used to fill in.

as in the remainder of the old days, those frozen waxes

melt too in the heat burns but naive me,

playing with the fierce flames, while swinging

by the fingertips, it used to give me immense pleasure

Little I couldn't understand, at the end of day

these frozen waxes won't be frozen anymore.

*

within each heat flames, it reduces gradually

the light of flaring sights aren't seen anymore,

only the melted waxes are strapped on the floor,

flemish lights of rabbit holes: peeking outside,

with me, availing in the depth of darkness. 

My longing gaze is stuck on the chirping window.

— 30/12/2022