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Lipsa celebrates the beauty and romance of Nature, in this poem, exclusively for Different Truths.
These days
Will soon be haze.
From the mist of dejection
Rises a broken sun
Gritting his teeth,
Trying to grin
In despite of the pain.
The dying tree talks –
Rambles of a degenerating mind;
She can’t see the falling leaves,
She doesn’t notice the disintegrating bark:
Her eyes,
Are set on that one goal.
Her sighs,
Have made the air heavy;
It weighs on the shoulder
Like the guilt of a cruel past;
And the fog, it thickens
With each try the Sun tries:
His light won’t reach the shores,
She will never feel his warmth.
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