By
Nandana Nataraj in
Poetry |
Reads: 221 |
Likes: 1
An aura of mystery she has with her
coz no one knows what she hides,
whether it’s the evil hands or the divine light
that could dawn from those impenetrable depths.
And the static outlooks yet declare,
“Well black ,It’s a color of grief,
a porter of rotten luck and downfall it se Read More...
Published on Mar 30,2020 10:55 AM
By
Nandana Nataraj in
Poetry |
Reads: 622 |
Likes: 1
I watch the fine sand grains
trickling through those curves.
An undying beauty-she stood
over the wooden , worn out table.
Gazing through the antique hourglass epitomizing time,
a random question shot through my mind.
Are my days dropping down ,
just like the sand oozing down…
Slowly did I Read More...
Published on Mar 30,2020 10:52 AM
