The old year shrivels like a dog-eared calendar in the ash,
Days fuse into dust, hope into hungry tinder, in the ash.
For a decade of scribbling my heart out on Internet,
The façade has imploded in all its splendour in the ash.
The nights tend to crawl with the frozen limbs of the timer,
The dervish dance of memories swirl and philander in the ash.
They have kindled in that attic a bonfire of our residue,
There’s no treasure to be salvaged but slanders in the ash.
Assassins of the kingdom have been prowling for my cranium
For winnowing the minstrels from the pretenders in the ash.
Uma you have cackled, wild with the revellers all night,
The icicles of tears glowed and burned to cinders in the ash.