Member-only story
A chain of mountains and a poet in ecstasy,
so much to explore, so much to study,
so much to put into words but
the paper is still blank,
I reckon..
my words are in hiding somewhere
between the dense pine trees or the
vibrant floral beds,
maybe, the soft soil soaked them or
the jungle ants carried them away,
I must look for my syllables combing
through the long grass blades with
my fingers,
Only then could I paint the serenity
in front of me with words,
Only then could my paper be content.
Thank you for reading! :)
© Arundhati 2020
