the snow, keeps calling me 

telling me to go back to my roots,

to embrace my troubles,

pressing me to forget that

perfection is not life.

urging me to live more

not bother about what the future holds

to have a joyful Christmas Eve.

 

But my busy life is me.

Of having too many promises to fulfill.

With the future beckoning me.

I can’t wait for the stars to make them come true.

Neither can I have my leisure hold me back.

Such is my Christmas Eve.

Tried writing a sonnet for the first time. The battle between self and dreams….. it all depends on you. Do check out poetryhive for the prompts.

 

Advertisements