Mud fascinates me.
I remember that day
like I remember the alphabets clearly.
You slipped and fell.
It was not a man I saw,
just a mud-stained boy.
And when brown met brown, I slipped, too.
And fell.
Down. Down. Down.
I'm beyond rescue.
***
YOU ARE READING
Moonlit
PoetryThese are thoughts born under the moon's glow; when sheep has run out, and sleep's a child playing hide and seek with the mind. Some moonlit verses from a pillow-hugging girl. *PTY | 20 [03.08.17]
