Beneath blistering blue,
breath becomes burden.
Before breakfast,
balconies bake,
blackbirds briefly
borrow bushes.
By noon,
blacktop blisters.
Bare branches
bear brightness
without blessing.
Bees buzz,
boundless,
between brittle blooms.
Brooks become
broken beds.
Barns bake.
Buckets brim,
briefly,
before being
bone dry.
Barefoot bodies
bolt
between
brief bands
of borrowed
building shade.
Brows bead.
Bottles balance
beside benches,
but barely
bring balance.
Beyond belief,
burning builds.
But beneath
blackened bark,
buried beginnings
breathe.
Bud by bud.
Blade by blade.
Because
brutality
cannot banish
becoming.
By dusk,
breezes
begin.
Before night,
beauty
belongs
back.
About the Creator
Aarsh Malik
Poet and storyteller who believes in the quiet power of words.
My first book, QUIET FLAME
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⏳ 90 days. $2,000
If my words stay with you, a little tip can help me get there.
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