The storm has blown over. As I sit staring at the grey sky above the emptiness within me is overbearing. The city's skyline is like a haunting shadow of my past. Life itself seems like a picture devoid of the Creator's colours.
Is PAIN the only TRUTH? In the distance I can hear the faint strains of melancholy singing –
“My red rose has turned to white,
How must I live?
How must I fight?
How must I see?
How must I write?”
The incessant ringing of the telephone interrupts my thoughts. With trembling hands I reach for the receiver. Why am I afraid? Afraid to hear the voice of the one I love? Or afraid to know that it shall never be her again…
7 comments:
Life itself seems like a picture devoid of the Creator's colours....nice lines....welll written..
play more with images...
extremely well written.....was worth it...even after mrs.cherian shouted at me....lol!!!!
really well written... very emotional.. dat makes me wonder why u dont like emotional movies!..
bhaiya...get over her!!she isn't worth such beautiful poetry!...anyway, keep blogging and write a poem 4 me also!!!
i can totally connect to u ... very very well ritin but u ve gota get over dis sweetheart n u knw well ... da sooner da better ..tc
I have read this one before..Am too frozen,to comment on this one.
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