• diaryticko 6w

    In editor's choice ? Thankyou so much . ^_^ @writersnetwork !




    I've this quaint wont of wrapping up shades of characters and tints of scenarios in the divergent folds of my notepad just like how my mother used to assort the withered petals of lilies , all insensate but pretty , in between folios of her floral covered journal .

    Like I've jotted down the puckers which made a home on granny's sweet oval face since the day she lost her consort with whom she used to stroll in the lawns of entity ,hand in hand .

    And I've scribbled the freckles, of that dweeb lass from my class , which looked like sprinkles of Nigella seeds in the garden of petunias . I've noted down all the glances she stole at me like she was a hankering flagon of prose and I was sonnet 18 of Shakespeare.

    And how I've crafted the scar , that twained the face of that boy from forhead to chin, which embodied the painting " Drunk father" by an eminent dauber . And contortion of verses he made around fervour of his sentiments after the day he perceived monkshood in his father which made his mother to gulp down the ruination of blooming nebulas .

    And how the glower on the alluring face of my mother , which was the personification of rotational tessellation the shingles of poetries for my pensive mind , are still reposing in solace in the versos of my notepad .

    I often flip folios of my notepad to wander in galaxies of
    tangerine blank verses of tears that rolled down my pale cheeks on the day I saw tubes of life monitor machine adorning her captivating chassis ,

    Fushcia vilanelle of sentiments that surged in my feeble heart while I was planting twigs of "our lil world " with my mom , sprinkling two repeating rhymes of dreads that my father showered on us and two refrains of endearment that was blooming so dilligently in barren of my heart
    and

    Cerulean blue limericks that I've sculpted with rose-colored cutlass in aphotic cupboard in my room that my mother has decorated with adorable magnets of memories .

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    ©diaryticko