My Special Day
I thought of writing a poem
or maybe about you
in this birthday of yours
Words are stuck within my fingers,
refusing to flow through my pen,
then they dissolved in my bloodstream.
Every poem on love had been already written;
by somebody for
This is not going to be special- No
This is not a poem at all.
These are just ramblings of a recluse
trying to hold a hand outside his shell.
Your voice, your face are long gone,
but YOU remain in my memories,
as vividly as the memories of yesterday.
I am not sure whether this is a pleasure
or torture; No, I don't know.
I think it depends.
I remember the day vividly,
as if it was yesterday.
The day was long gone,
gone along with a lot of other days.
That was your birthday,
You wore a beautiful dress- escaped
from the monotonous uniform.
(I'm still engulfed in a philosophical conflict
Was the dress beautiful because you wore it?
or is it naturally beautiful? ,
Clarify me if you can)
You looked like a rose among
all green leaves.
You are an angel among
Days, hundreds of them passed;
without seeing you or hearing you.
I'm thinking of you each and every day.
I'll continue to do so till my death
or when Alzheimer meets me-
whichever is earlier.
Comments about this poem (My Special Day by Shineson Godless )
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