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Sand castle crumbles
A child weeps
By the shore
A wonder created torn

Grains of sand
Held in tiny palms
Lost to the shore
Unsure

Mother’s gentle kiss
And a warm embrace
Rebuilds a mound
Of hope

Waves rise and fall
A dance, fleeting though
The ocean shows
A castle afar in throes

Joy of building
And losing, to waves
A castle fragile
Like dreams, unfold
A strange, dense, heavy word.
Once, graceful and noble
or it seemed to be
until I used it too much.
I know that something fails,
that I’m losing its huge potential.

If I pronounce it aloud
it doesn’t shine anymore for me
in the tiny corners of my mind.
It lingered awkwardly, repeating
“I’m here!”.

The tangled threads
imposing new interpretations.
The materializing weight of sounds.
It's a bitter pill to swallow,
but I know the side effects.

The lightness of the feather
turns into a red brick.
When it hits me,
my inner calm ceases to exist.

I’m struggling to rationalize,
to be more tolerant.
And I just ask myself:
if I truly believe,
why do I say it?

The word so needed,
so loved,
in the silence,
in conviction,
in the presence of no absence.

Something authentic,
wasn’t it meant to be spoken?
So sinister…
it builds and destroys.

The word,

the idea

of




TRUST...
Every day is today
Until it turns into yesterday or tomorrow

Every day I think, I will do the tasks
I had planned
But then, yesterday and tomorrow take over again

Is it ok dear Everyday
If you keep changing attires
Cause new and old
Is what seems to be your fate every day

Everyday yesterday
Today or tomorrow
Each of them forever
From each other do borrow
Written on 27th Jan 2025
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