as they fly
as they change
sometimes make me awe stuck.
I am who I am
wheatish,
toned,
moisturised...
you
dark,
memorable,
bitterly sweet,
dreamy feverishly dreamy.
yesterday when I lost poetry
I was sad
and then today I found
you again
poetry, you can be fickle minded.
today you are mine
tomorrow you move on
and you leave a mark
somewhere
and i am still searching....
1 comment:
I can even hear your silent breath ( like in sleep) when I read this little village girlish simple poem .
Post a Comment