In the time-worn canvas,
A child’s doll
Rests
With a crack in the face
Spiralling down,
Aching muscles strewn aside,
Disregarded.
The mind
Becomes an archive
Of old cassettes
That used to play fancy lullabies
But now smell of
Spilled liquor
And guarded smiles.
The most evidential part
Of growing up is
Realising
You cannot always keep
The ones you love.
Would like to give this reply with one of the Most famous poems of all time: The Road Not Taken.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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❤
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Beautiful ❤
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Thank you, love.
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Scrolling down fb found this blog and turned out to be gemstones for me. Keep going, চরৈবেতি!
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Thank you so much. 😊
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