Any seat that I was comfortable occupying
was always unbearably cold.
People were right when they said
that something was not right with me.
For my flesh wanted to become fresh snow,
my bones the lone tree
under which sat my soul-
a child learning to count
the years of cold and whiteness,
an innocent, forgetful, and aging brain
living in a world
with no song, no spring, no rain,
to remind of all that is lost.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Published by Nayana Nair
Hi,
I am Nayana Nair. I'm 28. Just a person who has tons of things to talk about....not much organized thoughts sadly.
I'm interested in all forms of storytelling (though I don't have the talent for it). So I like series, movies, novels, anime, and whatnot. I'm also really passionate about music, psychology, learning languages (I just dream big, too undisciplined to makes any actual progress) and literature. I am overall just a curious person who is interested in all kinds of things, as long as they suit my taste.
I always wanted to be a writer (and also a teacher)..But I don't think I have the skills required...this blog is just my attempt at becoming the writer I always wanted to be...Blogging for few years, I have realized I am more of a poet (although, I am not sure that I am good enough for that label)...I hope I realize more about myself through writing.
Thanks for dropping by!! Hope I didn't disappoint. :)
View all posts by Nayana Nair
It is not convenient to stay there long. I loved your poem.
I agree, such places can only give a temporary relief. But some time when we are tired and can’t take it anymore, such places end up saving us.
Glad that you liked it ๐ Thank you so much ๐
I love the imagery of this poem!
Really glad that you liked it ๐
Thank you ๐
Reblogged this on Alessandria today @ Pier Carlo Lava.
Thanks a lot for the reblog ๐