Sep 24, 2009

BHH. And again I miss.

This is terrible. Am going to miss what would have been very first BHH.
So since I pondered on what to do while am on the bus on my way back from
my beautiful dusty home town. Gosh I wish I had traveled yesterday.......
Why not a poem to keep me having a reason wait for the next UBHH.
Cant wait to read the blogs of those who will and have attended.

This one has no tittle
Its red September
The sun sets over a
deserted waterfall,
The birds fly in the shadow
of the setting sun.

And there you are
Its a boring evening.
And you think.
Oh how beautiful.
And you think again.
Did I realy deserve this.

The beauty around you
is vast.
The birds, the flowers, the slow, sippy, flowing
stream with white ducks swimming on the surface.
This picture cant seem to get off your mind.
You appreciate. Then you try to enjoy the beauty
and embrace it.

But when you do, you are resented
and you tell your self:
This tree should have left me a leaf,
This flower should have left me very scented petal,
This white duck should have left a feather that you would
watch all morning,
This water should have left you a gentle flow
that you would watch you image,
And these birds would keep singing that
you would even dance.

1 comment:

  1. Let me try to attend this time...i'll fill you in.