Wouldn't It Make A Lovely Photograph

Wild hawthorns
Iíve only read of
in long, winding sentences by Proust

The distance between the pen and paper grows and grows

a figure on the hill
turns into a silhoutte while the sun sets

The clean, white sheet imbibes me

you laid your head in mine and said "sky's nothing but
slower reflections of the sea"

I am dissolved in an aching nothingness

A scene I dream of while writing
about a girl, who is watching her love appear
each second more clearer
Look closely! It's Kathy you see!
It always rains in this part of my mind

Possessed by a sorrow
as great as losing a friend
Except that friend, my dearest friend, now is sanity

Through the static of raindrops, some distant sound
of music and many such moments
rapture before my eyes
All these vaporize

In this whirling whiteness, that diminishes me,
I empty things.
The nights in them
are lost in translation, and all that remains
I will later crumple and toss out the window

The seas would come again, with all their ephemeral chillness,
and wrap around me, and again I'll be overwhelmed
with nostalgia for moments I've never had
They will stay,
until I touch a pen

Poetry by Praveen Bhusal
Read 171 times
Written on 2017-12-28 at 15:31

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Yes, it surely makes a lovely photograph.

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo! A very very good work!