Monday, December 17, 2012


Its lost the burn of hot
Its too early to be called cold
Its meandered into in-between
Its used up the quality of bold

Its turned its back on urgent
Yet, it would be unfair to say its dead
In a land called Lukewarm
Things are better left unsaid

Its moved beyond the superlative
Its got stuck in the so-so
Its changed track from manic
And drifted to a pace more slow

Its apathy is showing, its breath is dying
Its clearly past the storm
And yet, it’s there and will remain
In a land that’s called Lukewarm.

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