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The River And Us
#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead.
That's the thing about us,
Forgetting the greens of tress,
And the blues of sky,
And the birds that are about to fly.
We see the things flourishing around,
Some making itself camouflage with brown,
While others standing with its own uniqness,
Exposing all its strengths and weakness.
Sometimes there are Black clouds too,
Blocking the sunshine passing through,
But giving rainbows as time pass by,
With memories flowing by the eye.
That's the thing about our life,
No one thought as similar to wildlife,
We see things but never observe,
All the stones that lie there unnerve.
Waiting for our touch,
For it to happen too fast even though not much,
While we are busy running in our own world,
Constantly flowing just like the river whirled.
© Vaish
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead.
That's the thing about us,
Forgetting the greens of tress,
And the blues of sky,
And the birds that are about to fly.
We see the things flourishing around,
Some making itself camouflage with brown,
While others standing with its own uniqness,
Exposing all its strengths and weakness.
Sometimes there are Black clouds too,
Blocking the sunshine passing through,
But giving rainbows as time pass by,
With memories flowing by the eye.
That's the thing about our life,
No one thought as similar to wildlife,
We see things but never observe,
All the stones that lie there unnerve.
Waiting for our touch,
For it to happen too fast even though not much,
While we are busy running in our own world,
Constantly flowing just like the river whirled.
© Vaish
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