A blueberry tree, poisonous,
With memories, addictive
Perhaps the fruit, perhaps the laughter,
In the end, a story to forget.
The sunshine which bears
The land’s rich colour,
A smile which bears
The heart’s jubilant colour.
Plucked of the fruit, memories,
A hand softly running through,
Soon fruit met taste,
Soon lips met love.
Winter came, with it, death,
The tree, its blue colour lost,
The two, their love lost,
In the end, a story to forget.
Hello all, my name is Aman ‘Misbah’ and I write poetry in Urdu and Punjabi and occasionally in English or Spanish. I’m just 18 but I’m inspired by greats like Emily Dickinson or Faiz Ahmed Faiz. You can read more of my word at urduahsaas.wordpress.com
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I love this!
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