The ghastly winds with wailing clouds,
thunder like fathom’s cry.
Like the hidden secrets in heart,
the seeds must sink deep.
As apples are meant to be red,
why phantoms fly and haunt?
When all run from the open grave,
Why the shrouded is a crave?
All the mysteries at night sneak,
don’t they fear the owl’s shriek?
We spook the death’s kiss by the knight,
whilst we vow to die beloved’s side.
With all such eerie thoughts,
I mark the demise of my piece.
As it’s time to eat sandwiches
with grilled cheese 😀
BY: AASHI KULSHRESTHA