Every night, I bring myself To stare up at the sky - But turn back home, with a frown on my face, Clouds blocking stars, showing wry. Every morning, I peek out the window To marvel at the sea above - But turn away, losing hope, Cotton figures, masking what I love. Every time I see the clouds, I curse them, with all might, They don't deserve to be up there, Ruining the bright days and starry nights. And one day, the clouds finally went away, And I stargazed in much peace. But suddenly, the sky felt a bit empty - Although dotted by the stars, without fake fleece. In the mornings, the sun burnt the pavements - And something inside me missed watching The white shapes that merrily float past - I didn't realise they had much meaning. Though much couldn't be seen, they brought A wholesome feeling - that you probably can't see - You only can, when one day, The clouds decide t...
Super Shriyandhaa. Hot is bearable for Indians and not bearable for Westerners. They want mild sun and bear chill and cold.
ReplyDeleteBut your hot vs cold is different.
It between you and shripràdhaa? You are cool and calm and so too Shriprdhaa. Then whom do you men? Anyhow nice poem. Keep rocking.
Super thought shriyandhaa I liked your poem very much.it gives the inner meaning also your anger is hot to others your calmness is cold or chillness to others. We should practice calmness to make others cool and happy. Good poem from Pushpa patti
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