literature poetry writing

I glimpse

Maybe the sky needs more of me,

Or there is a grandma knitting the fairest white robe for me.

In the sky, they say is dreary in colour,

But all I see is white.

The colour of peace, the colour of seas,

The colour of virtue and consensus.

All I see is feet of wanderers,

Reaching there.

Fascinating about fondling nature,

the fantasy of prevailing together.

Eternally may be a falsehood that they wanna live,

Or maybe it’s all about, pleasing,

I was replenished with pleasure.

All I saw was myself coming back there again.

As I wanted to be there evermore,

Covered with white, looking like drizzle.

I knew I was all about sparkle.

Glinting more and more,

With the sorrow mixed desire,

I was burning those timbers like fire.

All I yearned to be there.

Even when I knew,

Wanders has no home,

Even when I knew,

There is no dwelling, I come.

-Riya Shah

By Ray