Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2014
She loves her.

She loved her
with little rays of sunshine
and
Pitter patter tears.

Her love was like dew drops
on grass blades
on a misty morning.
Like a butterfly loitering around a little girl.
Like money on a starved beggars hand.

It was a humane love
built with
illogical trust and belief.
It was made of burnt bricks
of built up grief and an exhaustion
which comes from an eternal search
for a handful of love.

Her love was the size of her soul.
It was next to everything she would own even after death.

~~~~~~~

Sunshine
Priyadarshini Mukherjee
Written by
Priyadarshini Mukherjee  Howrah, India
(Howrah, India)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems