Calender..

Like an old willow tree
I do embrace the winter again..
My yellow leaves have fallen down
crying deep solo in pain… 
Totally wedged..
Between time margins and the  gloomy silence of the plains..
A stony statue doesn’t sense the grief ..
No bird chirrups on my forehead ..
No Breeze heals my wounds ..
But, you would come..
That  true condolence remains ..

Myth ..!