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Swetha Prakasha Poem
The emptiness of heart,
because it was driven apart.
Her conscience tells,
Never listen those yells.
is it missing of a soul,
or just the ashes of coal.
all she needed was the calm,
or be worried about the storm,
or think,
just about the ink.
should call it a misery,
but the man was chivalry.
so honest his thought,
things are usually fraught.
yet the emptiness remain,
she could not refrain.
claims of being spurious,
made her furious.
for folks,just a phrase.
but verse-maker will appraise.
all she wanted was to nurture,
her poems to scorcher.
But all were folks,
just like these oaks.
so she hides away,
along the bay.
Owns her hope and grief,
now just to brief.
clock ticks 12'o clock,
there's the lock.
time smiles,
And the work piles...
Copyright © Swetha Prakasha | Year Posted 2020
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