The whisper say of enchanting days,
The hug of impish air,
Warming my ways
I walked through woods,
Where my granny walked with me.
I walked with large trees,
She had planted in her youth.
It smells the same
Of delicate flowers and happy rain.
It smells the same,
Like her.
I believe when she isn't with me,
She is in ways.
Living through me,
And all that she created,
Like the trees,
And the woods.
YOU ARE READING
ACHES [Wattys Winner 2015]
PoetryAin't we drowning but still floating in our complexities of love and hatred, happiness and sorrow & life and the journey. Short stories and poetry about true living i.e living through an ache and coming out of it. Want to meet my words in versatile...
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