Was snowy evening,feet shivering with cold.
Neck rolled up with scarf,with gloves on the hand.
And i felt sorry;i couldnot bare the feet to taste the white land.
My vision was blurred,but the road was clear.
Breathe i can sense neither from front nor from rear.

The road was smooth,drenched with white love.
Permeating the aroma of soft cold solace.
Footprints of no life coming from there nor i saw leaving one.
Untrodden veins of the white heart,wanted wear of living words.

My past holding my collar,mocked me for being a daffodil in the garden of roses.
Laughed at me for shaming of society voyages.
Harbouring my mind ship at the edge,i pulled out the anchor.
Sailed the one towards my solitary dream.

Like Frost will be telling with sigh about the two roads he witted diverged in the yellow wood.
Somewhere i too lying on bed other side of the white heart,enjoying the daffodil among roses.
Will claim with feet dampening in warm water in a summer evening and with a smile with wrinkled skin.
That, it was the first step i took towards difference that has made all the difference.

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