poem

Flowers Drenched in Rainwater

Flowers drenched in rainwater 

O, how heavy you must feel!

Thoughts cascading down the edges of my shoulders

Overwhelmed, by the burden, I kneel. 

I bend to pick up the flowers 

My mind- not wanting to be kind

It only wants to pick up the pretty ones

And leave the withering ones behind. 

My heart warns myself, not to be fool’d 

“Look down at your own hands” it says

Graceful and delicate, now they are

But failing the tests of time one day

your own skin will slowly wrinkle away.

Comfort of Solitude

Out in the balcony,

Her heart is in monopoly

And mind has no money.

 …

She lights one up shakily,

Takes a filling drag casually,

Ashes drop on her right knee, a casualty.

Others find her silence uncanny,

Some think, she’s in agony.

But only she knows the normality,

of being a little lonely.

Strange To Think

 

Strange to think,

how everyone’s favorite, was not my

favorite. Brisking through the hallway,

with his damning smile

and his impressive eyes, holding a gaze, 3 seconds and no more

He walks by.

And just these three actions, an image

sketched into my mind forever.

For however long, forever lasts.

A few days pass and so do

 a few months.

And now strange to think, that

everyone’s favorite

is my favorite.