Loneliness is killing me silently
Thy memoire are shagging me so intense
I am unable to sleep peacefully
Thou..revisiting me is a suspense
Parceling feelings in the communion
Glancing upon waves of lustful romance
Awaiting world,force couples re-union
Betwixt inappropriate circumstance
Caressing his face in photo album
Again and again true love vail for him
Awe-struck entangled nerves fail to fathom
Doused frantic emotions stare at the glim
Hither and thither swirls my moaning brain
Squirts out extreme vigour of thine in drain
7-6-2020
~DEEPA~
Note:Written for Summer's Heat Sonnet poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Time does magic,
for it is not real.
Time is all illusion,
a sleight-of-hand.
We're tricked by it,
parceling time into
minutes and hours,
days and months,
years and decades:
but they don't exist,
no more than a
border does when
viewed from space.
You can prove that,
however old you are:
think back to a very
early memory, like
riding a bike or
tying your shoes
for the first time
without help from
the grown-ups...
be it twenty years
or sixty years ago,
doesn't it really
seem like it was
only yesterday?
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