#WritcoPoemPrompt121
Your notes,
Are the only things I have,
The words are like Stream of consciousness.
Dreams that run without the consent of the eyes
Paralyzing the heart in just few minutes of lofty desires,
Like a myrrh it annoints and plants the wounded self
In slow remorseless life, I lead here.

Dancing on the grey green mossy boughs of an old rain tree ,
Are the blushing winds
The late October skies hold strings that loops each flower
In the painted wild.
A river , trespasses through the moments of my youth,
playing with the reeds, piping celestial symphonies .
Moments breathe like a long drawn kiss upon my lips , I palpitate .

Fear is a liar, I confronted ,
it lies quiet and massacres my mind.
Like the stranded strings of lost imagination, it flows
In the stillness of the frozen seas and napping skies,
a midnoon hour secretly flows
clasping exhaustion,
Sending a heady scent of
Water lilies reeling , in the faint light,
under the solitary eye of
the sun.


NG.2022🍁