I sigh and kiss the drooping leaves; savor the moment precious before its loss. Each season the world would spin and bring about inevitable change. ‘To change is to mature.’ I would hold onto these words each time as the rain came down to soothe my fears. It plunged my fragile soul into the depths of madness deep; to think of life as new — as though a kite on string. Still, I let nature rush me through the gradual progress of time. Oh soft, aglow is scene. I sing the following verse with joy. We do it not in hopes of achieving fame — nor do we seek for scope of material gain. We write because we can no longer hold the words inside.
The sun beckons to lustre
and sheen; so that the bud
can change and glow.
Photo credits: hdw.eweb4.com
Posted for Haibun Monday @ dVerse Pub
For my prompt “When shades of loss weave with pattern of madness”
on 23rd September at 8:00 am EDT
Posted for poems written on Prompt Nights
Posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United