On a winter evening, the story had begun,
Of the dull glow of the setting sun
Peeking through the coconut lush,
Making the blooming carnations blush
And painting the sky in hues of pink
Gaze, entranced; not even a blink.
The serene scene as it remained,
Was yet another charming memory gained.
Stars scattered out and about
As dusk was consumed by darkness throughout.
The tale comes to a close with that
The now vacant chair, a souvenir of where I sat.
YOU ARE READING
Scribbled Echoes
PoesíaPoetry based on the everyday attempt to be and do better. Just day in and day out happiness, sadness, fears, and hope. I hope it resonates with you as much as it does with me.
