A few lines about growing old. Its nothing important but still it is…
in my palmsi seemyself witheringnot like a beautiful flowerbut like an old riverslowly drying upexposing the innumerable wrinkleson my bodyeach one of them for a loverlost back in time...
3 comments:
ok guys i am bad at this posting bussiness, so plz ignore the spaces that should be there
the poem is like,
in my palms,
i see myself
withering
not like a beautiful flower
but like an old river
slowly drying up
exposing the innumerable wrinkles
on my body
each one of them
for a lover
lost back in time...
aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!
youre back!!!!
and this is wonderful.
love you toh!
i meant back on wasted.
are you back in hyd too?
the wind carries it
from tree to tree
my lament
swells with the day
shrinks to my toe
at night
I pay all the due attention
to an ant left
by that black trickle
on a white wall
YOUR WRITING FORCED ME TO WRITE;
THATS THE BIGGEST COMPLIMENT FOR A WRITER, I BELIEVE
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