I barely notice
the heaving grey clouds
in between my pictorial
representation-
of silver monasteries,
sitting shoulder to shoulder
in pride;
waiting for heaven
to click a flash
and capture them all in one
big fake picture.
and l, I smile...
waiting for the meadows to
invigorate me
YOU ARE READING
Ink Stains
PoetryA collection of musings from my heart that doesn't stick to a certain genre but mostly writes on heartbreak, depression, sadness, loneliness... of course masked under heavy abstract and metaphorical imageries. It might not be your simple poem to...
