Nights #21

from my poetry journal

Some nights,
I lie in the left corner of the bed,
facing the blank wall
and trying my best to sleep,
closing eyes tight but no efforts
pause the haunting thoughts,
whirlpools in small brain.

Some nights,
I talk to my rose plants,
ask them questions:
how people love them
right from when they’re a
bud (kid), blossomed flower (adult),
even when it d(r)ies,
it has no answers
except, blooming and
asking me to do the same.

Some nights,
I make paper rockets and play with them,
they fly high just few feets
from the marble floor,
get tired and exhausted,
they somehow live their lifespan
to the fullest.

Some nights,
I look at the sky that’s filled with stars,
I love stars, more than anything,
each day one dies,
a new one emerges,
they convey me the message:
as one goes leaves,
there comes an alternative.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️


16 thoughts on “Nights #21

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