Falling to a pulp on the floor
Heard the voices many;
The bliss was intoxicating….
Displaced she felt as she rouse;
Confusion written
On the faces that peered.
But one familiar face
Lifted her hand
And to that smile, she relaxed.
Not yet, she heard
And sprung to rise –
The only rhythm
Her heartbeat.
Those few minutes?
The mystery enshrined….
Beautiful poem…loved it 🙂 🙂
please visit mine too
cheers! Apeksha
LikeLike
Thank you, Apeksha. I shall.
LikeLiked by 1 person
please keep in touch…may be one day I’d need to thank you for my success
LikeLiked by 1 person