Ishaisms

A certain breeze…

There's a place where I go where a certain breeze blows, where every petal and every thorn, every copse and every grove, for the lost one does mourn... for the loved one, does mourn.... There's a place where I go, where the birds sing a quaint song of immortal, evergreen folklores in music unheard before,… Continue reading A certain breeze…

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Ishaisms, Nostalgia, Poetry

The things that could have been…

At sixty-five years of age, with silver-greying hair, She sits on her cozy brown-leathered arm-chair; she closes her eyes and drifts back in time, to ponder over the past, and think, about all the things that aren’t, but could have been…   The pages of the past unfold and there she stands- a God gifted… Continue reading The things that could have been…