Castles in sand under the weeping willows

I know I have been busy
I have been busy digging
Little pits in shifting sands
By a choppy sea, and waiting
For my little dreams
To form puddles in my living
And slowly watch its walls collapse
Into itself

https://masterpiecer-images.s3.yandex.net/85fe17b8a4a011eeafd656181a0358a2:upscaled

Water to Water
Sand and all
Amidst the roaring of the waves
And the silences
Of the droopy willows
Crying
In the falling rain

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Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.

Travelers All

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known. And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these. Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.

Works of RK

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