Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A tune on a minor scale,
with rhymes to buy from whoever will sell;
The occasional laughter in my dreams
and a life slowly coming apart at the seams.
A new old book with yellowed pages,
scribbles on the margins and frayed edges,
and a flower pressed inside for no one to find,
its scent still lingering in the nooks of my mind...
I was re-reading some of my old poems a while back, and there was E-minor, something I had written almost exactly two years back.This poem is different from that in almost all possible ways, but for me they are somehow related...
Image Courtesy - Place Promised in Our Early Days, by Makoto Shinkai