The stream

A broken heart,Bleeds tears.But it’s thoseUnder her eyes,That fascinate meThe most.How they crashOnto her skinFrom the oceanOf her eyes.Raindrops,From the stormsWithin her.How they glistenLike a streamIn the fall.Only a stream:Is full of water.Her tears:Full of words.Words:That weave poetry,As they trickle.Down her chin.Into the etchings,Of my palms. © Shanyu Bihani 2020 This is a follow-up poem…

The angel to me!

I wake up in the mornWith my eyes so dampA knot in the stomachAlmost like a cramp. I walk up to the mirrorExpecting a look as sore,But they are just the feelingsThat are crawling up my core. And the previous mishaps that are Irrelevant today,Are trotting to my silly mindIt’s something I want to say….

Night break

The glorious pines stood in their battle scarred gowns Growing taller and taller with every attempt to make them frown. A mystical aura drifted through the air ambrosial and damp complementing the moon’s flair. Enchanting music played maybe radiated from the sky little flickering fireflies flew as the old peaks sat by. Gurgling creeks flowed…