Hii....️️️️This is a sudden poem. Here 'the candle️' is one's life.... 'the flame' refers to the dream that one keep in his/her heart, no matter whether it get blown away ️ or melt the candle completely ...Hope it makes sense....️️️️
On one side of a busy street there was a shop that sold beautiful flowers. Inside the shop there lived little melody, a gleeful seven years old girl. She was the gem of her father and mother. She was so cheerful and her voice was so melodious just like her name. People called her little birdie. Everyday, as father went out in the morning to graze the sheep, she sat near the rattled window of the shop with her mother who sold the flowers. She watched the flowers dancing with the wind that came from the mountain. Daytime was cheerful, but when night approched , this little family will close the shop, move to the basement where no one can find them and will wait until father come back. One night, little melody heared a song from their shop. She kept on listening it. Her mother told her that was a Hermit thrush bird. The song was so pleasant. Melody wanted to see the bird but she was not allowed to go up the shop at night. The next morning as she was watching the floral buds, she saw the bird flying away. She felt sad as she wanted the bird to stay there. She peeped out of the door. Her mother was watering the plants. She stepped out, unnoticed. She ran down the street calling for the bird. She saw the bird sitting on a branch. She ran towards the bird ,asking it to come back. A werewolf who was shopping nearby saw her. The hermit thrust flew away in a flash. The werewolf called her gently, called the bird with her and held her little arms. They disappeared around the shadows of the street. Nobody could see Melody and the Hermit Thrust again. People said " The shadow of the street swallowed them.
#mywriting#melody@writersnetwork ------------------------------------------------------------------ Failed attempt....Cuz I couldn't convey the idea properly ........Anyway, improvement is a slow process ....
Oh kind hearts, hear me out for I say- you belong to somewhere but not here . Here is no fit for you to not get hurt for this world is too dark and muddy. Time floats away leaving the last traces of good deeds that sinks in the sand brimming the hearts and mixing up all the light and dark that we've got. People forget that they belong to each other and about the mortal life that even looking back won't help you to feel the sence of belonging and love. Oh kind hearts, Build a barricade around your soft heart- and protect it from the deeds of this world Throw kindness around like confetti but stay away from the thrones of the red rose.
Hii....While I was diving deep in my lessons, I saw a broken paintbrush in my mind.️......What do you interpret from this small poem? Tell me in the comment sections.... All copyrights reserved... @writersnetwork#solitude