The Love of Little Life: English Poem by Hira Mehar

The Love of Little Life: English Poem by Hira Mehar


Spring tastes like a new beginning, like a new day after seasonal change
Autumn tastes like fallen leaves, like love made out of stardust,
like a fall for the spring’s growth.

Winter tastes like faded memories, like nostalgia
and frost of snowflakes on skin,
Winter bites with cold on cheeks, gives a little life to shivering bones
It’s the warmth of quilt and not the taste of humid, moist summer heat.

Grief tastes like joy and joy like little knots of
excitement in your belly’s softness
Hate tastes just like aggressive love, perhaps it is another name
for the denial of attraction.

Have you seen a kindled fire, one ignited from wood with a spark?
Have you delved in the burning wood’s scent?
It tastes like my childhood while I have seen your eyes sweat by its smoke.
The little laughter with every moment, have you heard its sound?
It tastes like memories of a distant place, one I used to call my home.

The distinct colours in fire taste like recollections of moments I’ve lived.
I now gently hold the fire close, it takes me back to yesterday,
to let myself drown in the water of nostalgic sickness.

It tastes just like happiness.

Soil inhabits seeds, sprouting to stem to flowers, have you
seen one bloom?
Its growth tastes like a curve of lips turning into a smile.

Sun protects the moon, then lightens it with its glow
The moonlight tastes like a sparrow guiding me back to home..
But the sparrow doesn’t fly, it descends to rest on my palm.

I stretch my arm to touch the sky, fingers touching the clouds
They scatter to give way to rain.
Have you heard its voice? It sounds like the melody of grief.
And its scent when it moistens the mud, smells like a rose without
thorns blooming in my chest.
My ribs feel lightened of tomorrow’s weight when sky cries,
My mind moors off the thoughts; I float over every drop.

Have you heard the echo sounding in the mountains?
Felt the sand under your feet while onlooking the sea?
They taste like waves of love.

And love is like dandelions ready to be flown away by
a soft wind, then building a home wherever they land.
Except love is everywhere, if you look hard enough
You’ll find it in grief, in the salty tears
Love is suffering, it intensifies itself between you and him.

And love’s softness builds you to love anything!


– Hira




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