poetry

Stephanotis

The wind brushes through the leaves, then ceases at its own silent and slow pace. Birds chitter their way up into the sky and fade away as they hit miles and miles out. Afar, the sounding of the tiny crawling bugs on the ground depart my ears, as they attend to their many youngings .… Continue reading Stephanotis

poetry

Gone are the winds

A clear ringing of the last words you said, pull me back, to the existence, that makes me dread, of how I even conceded to the emotion of closing ties, bound to a distant adventure that we alone would witness. A space, as I call it, is where I don't draw this and that, and… Continue reading Gone are the winds