A Paint Bucket of Words

Simple Things

They say the sun is a beginning-
I think its scorches kill.

The wind transports stories,
Sometimes, it's heavy with tears.

The clouds show us wonders,
Other days, they just bring the storm.

Maybe the stars wink at us,
watching from afar.

At times kingdoms prosper,
when the poor starve to death.
But happiness is when
every stomach's full at the end.

I think hope is a wilted flower-
Sometimes, it needs the sun and rain
Or maybe, it has all within it.
Other times, it just dies.

Sometimes our shoulders ache-
At times, we just sigh
But when we count our breaths,
we thank God for life.

I think smiles are ambiguous,
Or maybe a wink of love.

Often we cry at those laughs,
Or maybe laugh at those cries.

Sometimes, the tears say it all.
What if the rain of cries isn't enough?

Sometimes we are surrounded,
Yet alone in the crowd

We close our eyes and see
All the world could be.
Other times, we search
and find nothing with open eyes.

A little drop
causes ripples.
A little courage
changes the world.

Maybe, the ink is all in the pen
Or the paper is drenched.
Sometimes the words choke us, stuck
Maybe a word is an ocean
Or is a speech a drop?

Sometimes the black is despised,
even though it houses
the secrets of rainbows.

At times when we seek-
it runs ways from us, hidden
But when we lie down, tired-
All seems in front of us.

Sometimes we're caught in a mess
Other times, we just clean it all.

Just like those
coloured patches on the quilt,
Mistakes make us-
whole.

Sometimes we just accept it,
At times we battle it
Maybe we can do nothing
Other times, we refuse to do anything.
But what if we did?

Maybe it's these simple things
That make life, alive.

Zaynab 

4 July 2020