Old went to kill the seasons
Sulking in angry blossoms.
Old was proud
Nature couldn't touch him
And his prayers went above
To choke them who took his youth.
Instead he came back
With no cherry
For the old said,
"𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦
𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦
𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘛𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺"
Just then the sea says
"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴
𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥— 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘺
𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 recent
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
Faith, you've let go
You've let go of yourself
Broke open your old to find the young
Did you not find love in these crinkled skins?
Did you not love how the children bring flowers?
You abuse your present, my dear old
And you think
The seasons shall entertain you?"
—urmi
YOU ARE READING
Window Acoustic
Poetry'Window Acoustic' is a treble and bass of my thoughts. In this collection, one may find poetry born out of light and dark seeking to avoid reality or facing its vice.
