My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

by Sylvia Plath

Comments (2)

What a superb write Nimal, capturing a moment of non-understanding and intolerance so succinctly. A statement which seems to say that we should not seek out difference in people but look at our comminality. A wonderful construct my friend of which I am honoured to be the dedicee as well as honoured to read it. Thank you my dear friend.
Kindness and concern should recognize no barriers. Even though some of us are different, we are all human beings. A very fine poem, Nimal. Kindest regards, Sandra