The apricity caught my breath
like his gloomy grin
That unfurls like a cotton ball
Soft to touch
But leaden with moments of
An unforgetful past
He smells the flowers along the way
Only to pluck one and say
If it was any justice he did
I say,
It's not wrong to love that way
Because even clouds do surrender
He feels this rain on his lashes
And bends down to look
At his image in the mud
He almost jumps but considers
'Lost', he says,
I say that's okay
Every man is still a child.
YOU ARE READING
Can Poetry Heal? - Collections of a Wanderer
PoetryIs there a way out from this labyrinth? Maybe in poems and unsaid love we can seek refuge. Perhaps, this is what we stay alive for.
