Poems and Fiction

                                                                . On my way to a graveyard, Which was just across the Kyle. Though the thought curdled my dead blood, But i merely gave a smile. .The weather was sleety, Though it wasn't the month of July. But what is there to worry about, When you're detached from the city, nearby. . Eros, philos and agape, were something from which I have always waived. No wonder why their absence, Have gradually led me to my grave. .So pleasant was the smell of orchids, So soft the land where once we bantered, So cold is the air that went touching my coffin, But no more.... .As i was lowered, Even the maskmen sobbed. And i assured myself, That my cognizance will never be robbed. .Now that I lay peacefully, under the moonlight and sunny ga...