S E P T E M B E R
She was quite fond of autumnal splendour.
The gathered wrinkles of her sweater dress
The scent of cottonwood trees and rain showers bare
A tender ballast to a life so burdensome
An ode to the grandeur of seasoned pleasure,
And the etchings of a dim utterance that teased her so.
R E I G N
She woke with illustrated pleasure
The aversion to any and all rationale
For the gruelling impulse and prosaic madness
Incited a conscious, careless throe
So that she may bare her flawed wit
And weightless words for the world to see
As she waited desperately for the apogee
So that she may compose yet another piece.
The longhand mimicry,
Of a work she lived,
Of the work she breathed.
For this was all she had ever wanted to be
Copyright © 2018 Anisa Nasir
All Rights Reserved
(I do not own the photographs above)
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I hope you all do enjoy these pieces and I thank you for reading!