Library
Profile
The Last Poetry Of This Year
The Last Poetry Of This Year
Late-night poetry is a bliss,
Maybe it's simple, maybe it is not.
Sometimes it's complicated
Like you or like me
Knotted with feelings,
Like the roots of a huge tree.
Sometimes it hurts,
It's hard to explain what I want.
Sometimes it's tangled,
Like the silky locks of your beloved.
While you are busy,
With your loved, dear ones
Enjoying, celebrating the new.
I am busy rewinding the old ones.
Don't know, if you can
Rewind all the year
That's passed. Keeping all the tears and the joy,
In a diary, bidding the old days goodbye,
Welcoming the new year.
Everyone is busy doing parties, picnics and feasts.
But I am enjoying my serenity, with pen and paper.
And all the feelings unexpressed or prevailed,
That's my thirty-first night of this year.
Me, all of your gift joy and tears,
And all of what's left in this year.
