Forsythia Blooms
We meet here again
but I am alone
shielded by forsythia
behind memories
forged and forgotten
in fields that have
seen snow and rain
lain desolate
before seasons change
and drifting winds carry
sounds of birdsong
to end winter's silence.
We meet again but
I am alone
with golden bells that
chime your presence
as they rise from the earth
warm once more.
© Neetu
-
they said to remember crawdads
asked me to listen for their song
when my heart was heavy
and my sorrow dark -
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
-
the wolves are quiet tonight
-
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
-
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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