Loneliness

Loneliness

It is the coolness of the silk

Draped over the face of the woman

Who, after bearing seven children,

Has lost her man

To the girl, twenty years younger, 

Twenty times prettier; and bolder, too

Twenty times. 

It is the sound of the tree 

Falling down in the woods, obscure

And yet crashes so violently, 

It kills the pretty little wildflowers

But no one hears a sound. 

It is the colour of the summer sky

So far, so pretty, so hot, 

So unreachable. It is the colour blue

With dabs of yellow and pink

Harbouring rainclouds that will 

Explode into a tempest. 


Niangthianmuang S Ngaihte
Niangthianmuang S Ngaihte

Niangthianmuang writes riveting poetry and captivating short stories.

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