Dear sixty year old me,
Are we still a
Tangled mess of emotions?
Did we learn to
Fight against commotions?
Did we ever
Find our one true love?
Or is it
Something we don't speak of?
Do we still
Feel the need for a greater hate?
Are we still
Something of which we're afraid?
Are we still
Spreading the passion of words?
Or have our
Thoughts finally been blurred?
Do we now
Live proud and in great wealth?
Are we still
Breathing and in good health?
Are we even
Alive at this point of time?
Am I just
Wasting my effort on all these rhymes?
But nonetheless
I'll send you a note of affection
To simply
Ensure you're in the right direction.
We might be
Shuddering and old by sixty years
But we still
Have no need for irrational fears.
Close our eyes
And hope for blissful tomorrows.
Because not
Everyday is bound for our sorrows.
And when my
Pen finally leaves this sheet
Please do know
My hopes for us are concrete.
So, chin up.
Regardless of where we are later
I do hope
We still remain true to our nature.
Sincerely, eighteen year old me.
A/N: Thank you to Sneha, AKA MissAlmostGrown for giving me the prompt "A Letter to the Sixty Year Old Me". It was cool to write all my thoughts down on paper - a refreshing, kinda therapeutic way of making me oddly happy haha.
Anyway, Sneha herself also writes WONDERFUL pieces of poetry, so please to take a look at her book, particularly "She Scribbles." I swear, it's incredible! :D
Thank you for reading!
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Poetry| 1st Place for Summer Sun Awards (Beginner's Firsts) | | 2nd Place for the Pinpoint Awards | | Finalist for the 2016 Awards | It matters not what people think regarding things you believe strongly in. Perhaps, it may even help to even spread...
