Some people are like dewdrop, dwelling on a leaf,
But actually, they are a tiny drop of water; a blessing of nature, kissed by sunshine and exaggerated by bard's quill.
They too mistake themselves as a pearl,
But when Zephyr visits, leaf quivers as aspen, dew falls from the leaf;
Turns into dust, realizes this delicate beauty is nothing but a futile vanity.
YOU ARE READING
lutalica [2018]
PoetryLutalica, (n) the part of your identity that doesn't fit into categories. Only word that perfectly defines me. Here, I am presenting a tapestry of poetry that I embroidered with the thread of metaphor.
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