Somersaulting winds
from the unattended field,
feels like needle pricks.
Signs of rusted existence,
form natural boundaries.
**********
Following the signs,
making way through blinding dust,
new pathways emerge.
Embracing the obstacles
towards our destination.
**********
**********
~~payal~~
tanka for poets on the page
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Somersaulting winds...love that!
ReplyDeleteLove how you draw your metaphors .. especially loved 'rusted existence'
ReplyDeleteThank you..:)
DeleteI like how you contrast the emptiness here with a sense of unlimited adventure, Payal.
ReplyDeleteThanks! :)
DeleteYou are quite the gifted poet! This is awesome! ♥
ReplyDeleteThanks Kathy..:)
DeleteThis is inspiring and full of love, Payal:)
ReplyDeleteThanks. :)
DeleteAmazing poem !!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ma'am..:)
Delete