A Dance of Death

By Kavya Mehta

In the golden light of springtime,

I catch myself- dreaming.

Dreams that lead an ethereal dance, 

As if kissed by angels and promises. 

Cradled by birth.

As the air turns frosty and fragile,

My dreams crumble to the rhythm.

That my heart sounds,

Those blossoms wither in cold caress.

As he orchestrated the dance of my demise,

Crucified by death.

Castles freeze into ashes,

Memory of your cold body flashes. 

that night felt so hollow,

Death, the fiend that lingers close.

If you let your defenses die,

In moments when hope runs frail-

It shatters the spirit and swallows the whole.

By Kavya Mehta