Freshly fallen yellow blossoms
Strewn about the corner,
A road bending into the unknown,
Trees of warm honey, amber, and burnt orange—
Eerily familiar, yet oddly comforting.
Fading into the distance, softens,
Curiosity in me burns stronger
To walk into the path forlorn.
What is this magnetic pull so strange
That has the power to draw a soul wandering?
As though in a forgotten dream,
Or a dream of a dream;
I’ve walked into these depths.
A path so beautifully grim,
Asking to be tread,
Leading to a bubbling stream.
And as beautiful it may seem,
The road has seen barely any steps.
Perhaps this is merely a whim,
Just something in my head.
I take a step towards the woods,
Trip and fall.
My eyes are wide open,
This was just a dream, after all.
∼ © Shubhangi Srinivasan.
Hey everyone! In the spirit of National Poetry Writing Month, I will be writing some poems for every day of April. Each Day will have a new prompt. I hope I can keep up with the challenge. You can join me in celebrating #NaPoWriMo 2019 and check out the prompts here. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.