Opened jar of raw manuka honey,
Enclasping the lounge with its saccharine aroma.
Silver stroked plates festooned with rainbow salad,
Looking forward to be devoured with glee.
Bowl of soaked golden almonds,
Stripping off their pitiless skins.
Filled glasses of luscious cranberry sherbet,
Yearning to uncover only glad tidings.
Bunch of white asters crystallized on cocktail table,
Are keen to greet with a pacific aura.
Olive curtains enlivened on each sides,
They let the gleaming sunbeams pry in.
Pastel brown walls adorned with beaming snapshots,
Expecting the captured wide grins to mirror.
Each and everytime the floral wind-chimes ringed,
I wish it were you;
Only to be betrayed by the howling winds again.
- SAIMA
(Chammi)
Why these words?
We meet many who seem to become so important us and we forget to realize that sometimes, we are just a previous morrow to them. We wait, and the wait does not end, it keeps growing agonizingly.
YOU ARE READING
Talks with Pen
PuisiA collection of words into poems, shaped by pen and poured out of heart. "There were none by me, So I took the pen, Scribbled till it had end, The paper heard my laments, Which remained buried and hidden." - S...
