❝a rustic array of verses that whisper themselves through the centuries and into our souls.❞
☾︎ a poetic escapism; bringing stories from the windermere library in my mind, to you.
-m.h.
☾︎ hr :
1 in poetry,
1 in poems,
1 in poesia.
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☾︎ latte on a late sunday, art galleries open along the way, the long sleeves of your sweater by the cottage gate, performing as the actress of a classical play, breakfast in a new town; scents of books and a stacked coffeehouse, wearing ballgowns to the City Hall, letting tiaras fall on that Oak Creek ground;
everything you waited for has happened now.
☾︎ waltzing with the enemy, is it crossing boundaries or just being neighborly? who's to say what we can't do? who's to wait by the tavern on a sunday afternoon? they've got their eyes on you;
the click of your heels, they're familiar to, it's like you're the ale they're waiting to brew.
☾︎ do you want to be a pawn in these petty frolics? waltzing at the masque with the risk you're willing to take, a hundred times over, keeping up with a facade you don't have to fake, heaven's up high and stakes are being raised;
is this a creeping ache of coming years, or just another frivolous mistake?
☾︎ latte on a late sunday, cobblestones and wooden doors and fire places, ashes left behind from burning estranged faces;
when does theatrics become just a namesake? is it too late to pull the curtains down? is it too late to realise now that your life has been the stage all along?
they're watching as your strings are pulled by the fingertips of those you knew, and they're patient on that City Hall ground, everything they waited for has happened now.
—
a/n : this a poetry about deception, starts off from the protagonist feeling like her dreams are achieved but then realising that she's been a pawn in political games all along.
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𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐜 has now come to an end. this has been the most spontaneous journey i have ever embarked upon. this book started off because i saw a picture of a rustic books and i had this urgency to write the epigraph and tell tales from time long gone and of people we never knew.
i have since then been immersed in stories from windermere library and today, twentieth of february two thousand and twenty one, this book has been completed with twenty five pieces of poetry weaved together.
a wholehearted thank-you and gratitude towards my readers, for their time, it means a lot <3.
i hope you enjoyed this collection and i hope it brought some warmth & sunshine to you. until next time.
