Catalyst
I
moon
over lonely nights and
numerous afterthoughts,
lingering in reflection over
diligently cast balloons
bursting into tiny little diamonds,
wasteful, vain in the oblivious sky. I shut my eyes
and reminiscence, about yesterday,
as if it were, eons ago, with an unopened book in hand,
while winter sets in my cup of un-kissed coffee,
dry, pale, icy enough to
wake the Blake in my bones.
Note:
In short, the poem is about writing again after several failures
About the poet:
Chriselle Fernandes is a writer, poet and educator in Shimla, India. You can find some of her work on @jitterbugsjargon