Did you miss me today?

You wrote with sadness, the ink red,

Do you remember the last time when we spoke?

We were alone in a crowd,

Our eyes spelt what the weather portrayed,

Downcast, clouds a little heavy with rain.


Where is the value in artistic talents?

Well, there was once a street urchin,

Whose strokes brought barely a glance from passers-by,

He did think his work princely, though,

And, never did stray from his daily pursuits.


He never did sell a work of his art,

Until one day, he left this world for another,

His princely art, showcased as legacy of his good breeding.


And, the world?

It knew, it had lost a man of brilliance to ignorance and disregard,

Now, standing in awe, awarding him prestige,

Honor he had never received when alive,

Would there be regret? Of course, on every lips,

Too late, as he had died, a pauper,

He can neither see or hear “appreciation.”


Take a chance and read my book. It is a beautiful story about healing and hope.

On Kindle – 0.99 cents. Get your copy today!

The Healing Riverbeds by [Shobana Gomes]

4 Comments on “Posthumously

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: