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Let me lock my ebullient self.
The confines of my heart seem too small,
The dew-drops do not guarantee a longer-term;
Within the petals, there is hardly any space to hold me,
And the wind howls and screams,
The rain falls and beats the floor, not allowing me to sleep.

Let me overcome my joyous moments,
Full of sounds and agitated fun they were,
And root out my merrymaking after putting out the light.
The fury will blow away the thatch made of straw,
And I will towards the end,
Ease my tired, overworked limbs by rubbing them down.
Thursday, March 11, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: abstract
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4/12/2021 4:46:50 PM # 1.0.0.559