carnelian petals
withered in my calloused hands;
as I lay them
in memory of
my final wish.
perhaps;
if the wind did not beat around my hollowed bones,
I could hear your rattle
of fine poetries,
that sutured tendons
back to my fragile heart
but,
as the sun exhaustedly fell down
into puddle of murky lemonade,
my hopes
fluttered in wind
like dandelion sonnets.
the last of our entwined metaphors,
did us good-
in painting a picture
hung high above the drowning moon;
a distorted symphony
a contracted synonym.
stipples stained
the end of my diary
in running ellipses;
and I was forced to sign my farewell
without a smile.
~ Shafeeda T
Malappuram, India
Beautiful poem with deep meaning and rich vocabulary 😍
Beautifully expressed…😍😍😍
Beautiful