The East Wind is tired
He rests on my roof
Wraps his cold arms
Around my shoulders
And we sing to pass time
We're singing about
Rebellious summer monsoons
Dresses of green leaves
And crowns of flowers
About rocks that became softer
Tides that became calmer
And the final sunbeams
Treaded into his hair
I can smell the sweetmeats
Of January and April;
When he speaks
His voice rings with the laughter
Of children now older and wiser
And his eyes hold the sparkle
Of the midsummer constellations
Twinkling in the periwinkle sky
When the sun slips into the
Cracks of the seabed
He resumes his flight
Tucking into his soul
The bonfire of the world
And leaving the embers to glow
See you next October he laughs
Radiating vernal nostalgia
And then he leaves me drifting
Through the ombers and embers
Into the arms of a new beginning
YOU ARE READING
In boredom, we indulge in poetry and paragraphs
Poetrygood day to you too! (okay no curse good days, JUST day to you too!) this is a collection of some poems i wrote, short stories, and some rants. everyday musings and anecdotes if you will.
