Pieces

Pieces

In every size, color, and range,
In distance near,
Of paths obscure,
In the silence,
In the noise,
In every specter,
Of human weakness,

A book of poetry to touch your senses.

Pieces,
Of me, of you, and of creation.

I find a reason to fit them together,
Not all fall into a sequence,
Not all fit the spaces
Some to disappear,
Into oblivion,
Some to remain,
Embodied as memories,
Some to forget,
Some to cherish,
Some to stay, 
Just as it is,

Pieces,
Unstringed.



-shobana-