When winter by Yamuna Prakash

Updated: Feb 2


Art by Arinita Sandilya

Winters are when,

the leaves return.

In yellow, red

and deep orange,

withering, falling free,

waiting to kiss the ground.


Winters are when,

the warmest hugs await.

Razais find their nooks,

jerseys come to breathe,

out from their sleeping closets,

the missing socks get to meet.


Winters are when,

noise turns into a real hum.

Everything goes on a snooze,

even a rushed mundane,

slips to find its silent muse.

The beauty of slowness in life,

is the only reminder,

set on repeat.


Winters are when,

nostalgia, knocks you,

takes you by surprise.

Soft sun tickles the lost child,

reminding places in you,

that you would love

to reconnect to.


Winters are quite unsung,

Like that distant friend,

who writes to check in.

They are the home you tuck into,

you can’t stop but think of warmth,

when Winters begin to dawn.



About the poet:

As a freelance content writer my days are often timed and rushed. On other days, I soak myself in nature, music, long walks, photography, random writing and cups of chai. My love for art in all its forms is unending, for how they take you to places so unexplainable and beautiful. Spoken word, poetry and photography excite me, however I am still getting used to the idea of putting my work out there.

New to Instagram: www.instagram.com/yamunai__


About the artist:

I am a self-taught embroidery artist who initially picked up the needle and thread as a way to channel stress (guilty of being an overthinker) but it soon transformed into a medium of creative expression for me.

Not sure if I have a particular ‘style’ but my work does tend to gravitate towards themes inspired by nature, books and pop culture. Fun fact: I work with a wildlife conservation NGO during the day and as an embroidery artist by night! Find me on Instagram www.instagram.com/threadcaster




 

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