echos from the weeks that passed
now that the heat
is no longer captured
night comes cooler
soothing these trees
remains the monsoon left behind
monsoon’s last vestures
marked only by fog
rolls back into canyons
reverberations of you
the day’s fury settles
with eery silence lingering
hangs heavy as wet rugs
dripping emotive torrents
unsettling stillness
how you haunt my lawn
walking sharp edges
pierces the beauty
worn are your words
remains of this week
like porcelain soldiers
splintered on Italian tile
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Thanks. It’s poetry and it comes from the deepest places within.
If you find it helpful, I am grateful. Please feel free to add your comments, reflections and how these slices of time apply to you.
Namaste. maysa
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