Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2021
Rain taps on the windowpane
The dead singing along the downpour,
The living dying with each descending raindrop
who's the one here shedding the tears
who among these holds life more dear?
A simple thing life, a fickle thing life
a selfish thing life, making us endear it endlessly.
Do you ever think about it?
how cruel it is to keep running away
And running towards death
with each passing deed.
But till the time comes
Rush behind the paper boat that is now afloat
of vintage dreams and debt notes
praying for it to see the seven seas
and return with flowers from different springs,
Inhale the reeking of the wet earth
soaked in collateral damage
and daily contemplations.
Wait till the bow appears,
a prism of colors and hope
a celebration of mistakes
and the spectator of my forlorn attempt to escape.

-pranj.
Pranjal Singh
Written by
Pranjal Singh  17/F/India
(17/F/India)   
82
   Riffat
Please log in to view and add comments on poems