My dear T, do not worry,
You’re dis-balanced, disarray, do not feel sorry,
You’re teary eyed, walk muddy feet and bruised your knee,
I have wiped them all, can you see?
Thousand of words you can not say,
But your tight hug makes my every day,
Your hands shake, the spoons fall,
Don’t worry, I will pick them and clean them all.
My dear T, you do not have the might to write,
Zillions of thoughts, but are shining bright,
White canvas, colours of all hue and shade
Your every painting is lovelier than ever made.
The one who wins is alone dear T,
Pick your paint brush, and smile for me,
The world applauds the one who dares
My dear T, it’s the fault in our stares.
I am participating in Bar-A-Thon, organised by Blog-A-Rhythm. This challenge is to write seven posts in a series, every alternate day beginning June 17th. This is my first post, and today’s prompt is – “The fault in our stares“.
Loved how delicately you have woven this poem. Beautiful write
Lovely sensitive piece. If only we’d be accepting of all kinds of people!
True. It’s improving, but it needs a lot more compassion and understanding. Thanks for dropping by!
good one
Thanks for reading Balaka!
It’s just how we look at things. Sure, T is different and talented in her own way.
Love the poetic take on the prompt.
Thanks for reading Parul. This isn’t full fiction and words can’t describe to what I feel about T.
Nicely done!
Thanks for reading Marquessa!