Life hangs in air like a translucent weight
ponderous, dull brown, tepid air of spring
laments through ornamental landscapes,
clustering around my head, grunting oracles.
Lesions and liaisons, phoney fellowships;
no one traces the fading brightness on
rosy neck, slow decay of fostering heart.
Caught between the crumbling beams of
a majestic monument, I am the frail vine,
twisting and waving, swinging to be free;
my tattered body, too green to be wizened.
So beautiful and personal as only longing, loneliness and sorrow can be.
Love your outpourings. Hugs.
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Thanks a lot Nidhi 🤗
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Simply beautiful 🙂
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Many thanks for reading 🙂
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