The yellowing leaves scattered in the ground
Talk of times which made it's way into past
The dampened leaves give away a pungent smell
A smell of decay, a smell enough to rot memories
Memories! Do we ever burry them?
One scratch in the wind can bring in memories roaring
The more you distance yourself, the more it tears you apart
Just like a sore wound, it inflicts despair.
The greasy soil underneath your heavy boots
Looses hope each time you trample it
But, come autumn, the soil gets a makeover
Leaves: yellow, brown, withering to its bossom
The world looks robbed but the soil leases life.
A poet may love spring, but a decaying heart sings for those scattered pieces of leaves mingling in the soil,
For what is dead can make things alive.
We sat overlooking the endless foamy sea from the wooden shack that had become our favourite spot. The vastness of the sea left us numb, yet we managed to mumble all the while tasting the salt peppery breath of the sea against our face. "I had never been so much at ease", I heard him close. I nodded, unable to put how I was feeling right at that moment sitting beside him facing the sea to myself. He played with the loose hair strands that the wind blew to my face. I let him. I was never so comfortable around any guy but with him everything was easy, as easy as breathing! He was getting tipsy from the beer cans and I was high on the ambience that the setting sun was promising us of. He looked as peaceful as a kid. These many months of knowing him had made me see the good that the world possessed of. I clutched his hands assuring him of my presence. He smiled his usual smile, the one that brightened up his calm face. A faint chord of a guitar, odd excerpts of foreign tongues,...
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