Read the caption (Poem)//10
Sea of poppies,
The level of snow on the grey cement reminisces.
I remember the red petals opening and sprinkling the dew drops on grass.
The poppies don't grow in this crowded loneliness,
But in the secured balcony where it longs for solitude in some overwhelming greenery,
Where cacophony of birds awakens the Sun,
Where the pebbles wear the see through River.
In this first moving world,
Where everything and even souls blur out,
The mirage of so many tomorrows and yesterdays remain constant,
And the present carries the weight, too heavy for the bones.
It's a breaking of bones on whose vulnerability sun shines at morning,
And moonlight sees the celibacy break on troubled sheets ,of the flesh and blood that questioned it's identity,
And the inferno of judgement continued to engulf her with ease.
Moments after the fuming rage,
She sided and denied
And she was left alone,
And he was gone.
She kept looking at the jar of water left ajar,
Holding some of moonlight because the poppies in her bouquet are dying,
And she wants to plant them in their own secure native land,
Like she felt she was secure in her own limited shell size,
The night of pondering stopped for her at three,
When she felt poppies can grow in other places too,
If the right hands handled them with care and love.
So even at night, she took them to lawn and did everything at her best.
The next morning sun shined on the poppies as well,
May be so many of us are poppies as well,
Just in the wrong hands,
Handled in a rough way, hardening the tender in us or breaking the strength.
But we come with an exceptional advantage,
We can move and poppies don't,
So move out of places that don't serve you well, while you can.
Picture credits: Pinterest
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#poetryoftheday #herheartpoetry #brokenheart #innervoicewf #snow_mist_rose45 #madewords #love #growth #poppies #moonlight #sun #lost #moveon - 32 minutes ago