I flipped through the last pages I read
The binder full of blank polaroids,
Decorated with lose strings of beads
White sheets of cloud could fill the void.
Floating into the gulf of memories
The font readings swam away distant seas,
Now will I remember at my thirties?
I want to relive it again, I please.
Pages are empty
Last time I read,
It contained everything in plenty
I don't want it to be a sad ballad.
I want to write it again
Shape the fleeting clouds,
Make my imprints remain
The lost words say the story out loud.
-Anisa
YOU ARE READING
Speaking Hues
PoetryMy poetry collection. Stains and Smudges of life portrayed through poems.
