Poetry at Sangam



An incomplete winter by Ravisha Mall

winter peaked this morning

in the throes of summer,

a whiff of a cold sun..

everything seems right

but something is amiss.

Your smell… It’s Missing.

from the nape

of your neck,

to your fingertips

in my hair,

the skin under my nose

is divine…

your words are here,

and so is your love..

everything’s the same,

I find…

It’s just your smell mother,

only your smell,

which is missing…

and that’s the only thing

I mind.