A wise man once said,
“Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion,
Our most inexhaustible source of magic,
Capable of both inflicting injury
And remedying it.”
Why then, are my thoughts so dead?
How else do I write about what’s within
And far outside the realms of logic?
It’s not just yet the end of my story,
But for now, this looks like it.
Ink-pots have run pretty dry,
And I’ve said what I wanted to say.
But this is not another ‘goodbye’,
I’ll come back once again.
This isn’t the end, I’ll admit.
As the sun rises each new day, so will I,
Come what may.
Yet another month passes us by.
You’ll see me soon, but until then
I’m afraid this is it.
For long I’ve kept my stories hidden,
Now unveiled for you to read.
But for now, I must stop,
Lest I run out of words I know.
Let me just stop and breathe for a bit.
Who knows how many more are to be written
By me because I let my pens bleed?
Excuse me as I stifle a silent sob,
We have but miles to go,
But for now I’ll stop, this is it.
∼ © 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.