The washed off pages,
Torn on the sides.
The greying mane,
Wore sadness in the braid.
Diminishing vision,
From the melting eyes,
Forgotten smile,
On lips a drought.
If it was easy,
He could have stayed young.
If it was easy,
He could have been happy.
If it was easy,
It could never have been life.
YOU ARE READING
ACHES [Wattys Winner 2015]
PoetryAin't we drowning but still floating in our complexities of love and hatred, happiness and sorrow & life and the journey. Short stories and poetry about true living i.e living through an ache and coming out of it. Want to meet my words in versatile...
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