She whispered her secrets,
Her dreams, her joys and her regrets.
Every word unfiltered she poured,
I waited hungrily, wanting more.
On some evenings, her tears drop slowly,
She immerses herself in me wholly.
She tells me of her troubles and her glory,
her deepest desires and her heartbreak story.
One day suddenly, when she wasn’t a teen,
she brought herself a shiny new machine.
She spent hours on it drumming her fingers,
my pages still miss her touch, her fingers.
Once a patient friend, now as a diary
My days have come to an end.
© Sneha P [Rights Reserved]
Today’s poem is about the word anthropomorphism.
Anthropomorphism is a literary device that can be defined as a technique in which a writer ascribes human traits, ambitions, emotions or entire behavior to animals, non-human beings, natural phenomena or objects.
Source – literarydevices.net