Approved

September 5, 2008 at 11:21 am 1 comment

Cold can be a pint of lager.
Cold can be a solid wall of glass.
Cold can be the air-conditioner
aimed at my cubicle from 9 to 5.
But neither your breath or sweat,
nor your exhaustion or stink.
Those are mine by right and by chauvinism.
By my egocentricity, I own their warmth.
My soul and the warmth of that air,
they are doomed to a symbiosis
approved by you.

© 2007 Ritwik Banerjee

Creative Commons License

Approved by
Ritwik Banerjee is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

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Entry filed under: art.

The Last Request Still My Paradise

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. tuttysan  |  March 23, 2013 at 9:16 pm

    Thought I’d pass by and re-read some of your poems. This one escaped me back in 2007. This poem is so endearing. “By my egocentricity, I own their warmth”. Loved it, and everything that comes after. I hope you are well, my old poetry critic. 🙂

    Reply

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