The satin sheath of love
Seems to be in shreds,
Today.
(Ripped apart,
Or is it a designer creation?)
The polka dotted pattern
Shines bright
On the milky white background
Where imprints of life
Has left its mark-
Stained.
The randomness of each droplet
Creates a whirlpool
Of curiosity.
For,
There is no thin line
That segregates.
And there is no boundary
To life.
(The seam hasn't split, yet,
I know. Still, the needle is ready
To sew together the shreds.)
And then,
Immersed in crystalline thoughts
I shed my polka dotted life,
To colour yours-
RED.
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2 years ago
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For,
ReplyDeleteThere is no thin line
That segregates.
And there is no boundary
To life.
This poem has a combination of realization and then letting go of yourself. A wonderful and wondrous write Sashz.
Loved it as much. Thanks for the share. God bless.
For,
ReplyDeleteThere is no thin line
That segregates.
And there is no boundary
To life.
(The seam hasn't split, yet,
I know. Still, the needle is ready
To sew together the shreds.)
Same lines to quote, for it is here that the pain comes right through! In ironical flavour too!
Great job, Sash.. but I still love Reflections!!! :)
I confess, as much I tried to understand I couldn't place the whole of it in a balance. Did I miss something?
ReplyDeleteA few spoilers are indeed necessary!
soumya!! glad that u liked this write...thanks so much!!
ReplyDeleteusha mema :)
ReplyDeletehehe!!same here...i too still love reflections betta!! :D thanks so much!!
prabhu, this onez juz a random write... about how one loses oneself to colour another life :) i dunno how clear i hv been wi de idea... thanks so much for puttin down ur view!! :) thank you!!
ReplyDelete