Afternoon coffee_ watching the Winter raindrops mate on our glass window.
white sheets and furs between the warmth of our skin. feets smuggling to Yiruma’s rhythm.
The crackles of fire melting the clock to the midnights heat; sharing spaces without a sound as the cold November rain teases the Spring’s delight.
Sweet tulips and dancing dandelions for my hair and a wildflower tour in the wild for his play, gathering sunshine with our rain-soaked clothes to dry in the heatless heat.
Another poem | Violence struck Mother’s Day
Busy Mondays just in time for Summer’s touch, stripped ourselves for a view no gods would deny; who cares about the heat outside when our skin can defeat nature’s raid?
Beer and warm water that’s the division that keeps our differences rooted to a bottle of wine on Saturdays.
We chase the sun down to win a race with the morning sunshine blues. Pack our bags for a nine month holiday; swim the deep waters, tame the heights of the rocks and jump from the sky and a “je t’aime”, as the Autumn wind passes the letter to the corners of the continent. for if Heaven knows, the earth should sync to the melody till our bones turns to sand.
If you want to read more | OCTOBER
And that is how we live forever in Heaven and on Earth. all of these painted moments shall be why the cosmos dance. and its movements shall be moments given birth from the mistakes, the mad-selfish love, tears, and what not! Of ice and fire, of the galaxies to the Marian Trench and the storms in between.
Not own, but belonging. Not of freedom, but of understanding. Not to remain, but to evolve.
And this endless gift of immortal intimacy shared, as if I were with the man of my heart.
Read more | Paper Birds – The 90s kid
LitWeekend invites short stories, folklores, poems and anecdotes with objectives of instilling reading culture, promoting literary and aesthetic creativity, besides honing aspiring writers of our region. Mail your stuff at ukhrultimesdesk.com.
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