For Poojya.
For telling me its okay to let go. For making me understand that sometimes to get over the spells of sadness, we need to fall back on happy memories. For making me realize writing is cathartic.
***
The earth an unfinished painting
Biding its time,
For the return of the artist’s hand
Heat and pressure building
Causing it to change and grow
Infinitely more precious now,
Uniquely crafted as it is
Swarovski crystals hiding in shame
At its sparkle
Giving new meaning
To pristine perfection
Tugging at your heartstrings
Making you sigh
At the simple beauty it presents
Falling softly,
Captivated by the light
Dappling through your eyelashes
It rushes to learn
The contours of your face
Living for the moments
It caresses you
Hoping to last forever,
Like the memory of
your first kiss,
***
It was my first glimpse of snow.
***
© My Rickety Typewriter, 2016; Vintage Ink.
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fail to imagine the imagery of ‘you’….. though it does have a drifting play of words.. (Y)
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Hi you. Nice to see something written from you; and if this was even remotely catahrtic for you, that is great.
I feel like I’m stuck in a similar I can’t write phase. Ugh.
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