Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2021
No time for crying
I am dusty as a clock
I keep looking ahead
To playing our broken records

The rains come in buckets
She rests her head on my denims
On an empty street as open as the ocean
The sunset keeps chasing us

But what tomorrow brings
That the autumn leaf turns
And winter's worry plagues me
If summer is dead, what is change, life, love
Just saying I wrote in a hurry.
Aditya Roy
Written by
Aditya Roy  27/M/New Delhi, India
(27/M/New Delhi, India)   
204
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems