Tags

, ,


This post was inspired by the fog in London last Sunday. During my run, I felt as though I was in magical wonderland.

——————————————————————

Wonderland, I call it – do you see what’s in front?
A picture usually clear,
now blurred.

Usual sights turned invisible,
I hear ducks but see none.

Down the path we go,
is the road clear?

Obstacle ahead,
we shout, but helpless we are.
No options we have,
only to tread gingerly forward.

Directions we select,
steps we take,
take for grantedย our sight.
Our vision not gone,
yet the landscape escape our eyes.

Light plays its role this crucial round,
lighting up the way for us indeed.
All is not gone, only temporary loss.
Blanket, a reminder to jolt our memory,
cousin sun please come.

Wonderland, I call it – do you see what’s in front?
A picture usually clear, now blurred.

 

This piece has just been submitted for Thursday Poets Rally Week 57

Advertisements