When the sun sets
Who is it that ranges, occasionally,
The quiet distances of my mind
Reminding me of songs I'd rather forget,
Of a yellow rose that fell me
Of that first year of deceit -
Yours and mine?
Who is it that sweetly stabs
My eyelids awake
So that I walk-wake-live-die
Till I see a skewed sunrise
And dyslexically construe
Today for tomorrow or
Yesterday for another life?
- Me
Labels: poems
2 Comments:
i like it more when you are a poet :)
Lovely poem... I especially like the second para.
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