Poems For Contests

An ode to my present

Oh my dear present,
I leave you here.
I cannot be your lover,
for my past is calling me.
The time where I come from
is a bed made of thorns,
and yet I have to lie there,
for the greater future.
You will always be
my cup of ambrosia,
though I should return
to the goblet of poison,
that I call my past.
I would live a ninety years
in this treacherous past,
but your memories
shall always be fresh.
Oh my dear present,
move on, please,
for you shall
find your ideal lover
in the sunflower fields
that bloom in the future.

Kavya Janani. U

This poem is one of the winners of 'Verses in Time' contest, conducted by WattpadTimeTravel  profile.