Thirteen Winters of Love

One season is supposed to go, another ought to come;

Here I am, stuck in the same weather, for way too long;

Peeping through one small window once a day;

Had read about three seasons in books: sun, rain and snow;

Nothing changes in here, only I continue to grow.

Thirteen winters, just me and my shadow living;

Peeping through one small window once a day;

Seeing the regular sight of cold and uncaring strangers;

And man and woman looking at each other, seemingly in love;

For years love was something I used to crave.

Till one wise birdie I met once pattered to me:

'Don’t complain ever about anyone about your solitude;

You are not alone, each one of us live and die alone;

Others care more for them and merely pretend to care for you;

Suddenly I envisaged all the kisses I had seen the couples blew.

One season is supposed to go, another ought to come;

Thirteen long winters, me and my shadow, in one little hut;

Few girls giggling at me through one small window;

I see man and woman in passion like two peas in a pod;

Growing to love solitude more, learning that love’s just a façade.