There are times when nothing seems right
And I persuade myself to see the bright light,
But nothing in this world can clear this mist
And I begin to write with a tight fist
And that’s when I decide to pitch in for a walk
But everything on this mighty earth resembles dirt
And I begin to drown in the puddle and yes it hurts
And I long to create a symphony
But nothing matches the tune
And I begin to make castles similar to sand-dune
And that’s when I pray in vain and hear a thud
But everything sizzles mockingly in mirth
And I begin to provide a spark to the dying hearth
When blisters in the sun seem uncanny
But round the bush along the street
There aren’t people you want to call your own... whoever you meet.
There are times and times there are…
2 comments:
we have similar styles...dont we...?..hahhaha.but the poem is really nice.....very good expressions of the sand dune..and all..symhony
Thanks ya !
Post a Comment