A whisper in the wind, now faint,
The echo of a sweet complaint,
Once vibrant in the morning’s glow,
Now fading in the dusk's soft flow.
Your touch, a ghost upon my skin,
A memory that aches within,
The warmth we shared, now turned to cold,
A story that was left untold.
The days we danced, the nights we dreamed,
Now slip away like fragile seams,
I search for traces left behind,
But lost love is a cruel kind.
Yet still, I hold you in my heart,
Though time has drawn us far apart,
For love that’s lost is never gone,
It lingers, like a distant song.
About the Creator
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More stories from Jagadeeswaran Selvaraj and writers in Poets and other communities.
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith6 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
Hey I was just wondering. Do you write these poems on your own or do you use AI to write them?