I go for a trek to take a calm juncture,
And opened my book with a pen in the park.
I glance around at the existence of nature,
I penned every word until it vanquished the dark.
The silvery foliage of plants and trees,
Reverberates nature's conversations.
Dewdrops of rain on the blades as they freeze,
During cold times and sleepless notions.
Green was the color of the grass.
Brown was the color of the bark,
Blue as the grief creeps into my past,
Grey as the clouds left a mark.
Take me to the brook of insensibility,
Where I gushed my tears and senses.
There's a shadow of infidelity,
Through its opaque and foggy lenses.
The sleight of my hand on the grass blades,
Wounded my delicate fingers.
Down to the misty meadow as it fades,
The river of unhappiness where I linger.
Go aimlessly through the grove,
Up in the canopy of sequoia and oak.
Pack your metaphors and loaves,
The handwritten note inside your cloak.
The foliage that used to be silver,
Became blurred and withered.
The cold waft makes me shiver,
Left me scarred and triggered.
YOU ARE READING
The 18th Amendment (Revised Edition) (Anthology I)
PoetryTrying to reinvent himself during dire times. He found himself in a crooked path that no one leads to happiness.
