We may find poetry in the most unexpected of places. In a diary with missing pages, on the brim of a coffee mug, or in the people we almost loved.
Sitting by the fireplace on a wintry night, chillblains etched on my toes. The scent of fresh pumpkin bread and warm milk filling up the atmosphere.
Strolling leisurely in the meadow, flowers blossoming to show their bright faces. The butterflies open their wings, reminding me of the splendour in all things.
Shining defiantly through it all, a radiant yellow ray of light that beautifies everything in sight. As it sets over the horizon and becomes one with earth, lovers rejoice.
September of rainy days. Green fuzzy socks and a fleece gray blanket, quietly sitting beside the window and watching raindrops fall.
Softly blows the wind in my hair. Dreary clouds bloom the slow-dying day, shades of brown and green wither on the ground.
Poems are not seasonal, your poems are eternally waiting to be embraced. Find them.
This post was written by Samridhi Seth (III year)
