It was the summer of 08'. We all had it going good but then a storm hit and the world fell apart.
The flowers withered and the soil parched. I was left hiding from the scorching sun.
The rays hit and the light burned.
Now the summer has all gone. With it, its taken away everything that reminded me of you.
All its left behind are the few pages between which are still stuck, the familiar smell of June.
3 comments:
Very wonderfully written. The last two lines are perfect with the sneaky near-rhyme of "you" and "June". Took me a couple of reads to figure out why that last line had a nice sonic chime. I love that kind of stuff. Bravo!
Perfection is not a destination but a goal..says a great soul in the yogasara upanishads..well.. its true.. one can see it in every tremor of nature.. the waves are constantly cleaning the shores.. washing them of impressions.. without as much as a murmur.. and with a gush of glittering happiness every single time..
Impressions are hard to wash off i agree...Pascal I think it was who confirmed this theory some time back..
"Nature has her perfections tp show she is a reflection of the divine...and has her imperfections to show she is just a reflection."
So Nature doesnt mind your imperfections..for without them she cant gauge your successes... but she definitely minds ur indifference.
thank you so much for liking my work. :)
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