The Blue

I can't see as well as I used to,
The flowers look hazy and hue,
The letters jumbled into a stew,
The screen on my face blue

If then else I choose,
For while I run a loop,
Tighter gets the noose,
My eyes begin to droop

I can't hear as well as I used to,
Just the coffee boil and brew,
Clacking keys and errors cue,
It's time for me to start anew

When did the birds stop singing,
The trees don't rustle anymore,
But Lofi on repeat is ringing,
Weight on my ears make it sore

I can't touch as well as I used to,
The prickly grass with soft dew,
On slides and swings I flew,
I wonder when the project's due

The cold, cold clasp of keys,
Keeps the tip of fingers warm,
How I miss the gentle breeze,
Before the thunder of storm

I can't see as well as I used to,
I scroll through the blue,
Murky misty gets my view,
Before long my eyes glue




Poetry by Dhruv
Read 117 times
Written on 2023-10-19 at 10:15

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2023-10-22