I dance on the streets
Where i lost you.
It’s pouring.
On the Tiptoes
I am moving singing, murmuring.
There are tress around me
Tall, rigid.
It’s winter but I am holding a flower in my hand.
Barefooted
I walk into the trees.
The wind is blowing but my soul is still warm.
Maybe it’s the fire that you have gave
Suddenly I started making a map.
I picked up flowers which are shed from the tree.
And made my own bouquet.
I went too far with the rubber band around my waist.
I found ray of light in all those dark places
I was about to hold it.
But then
you pulled me back,
like a bullet fired from a gun, coming back is unfeasible.
But, I was coming back.
My eyes were closed I am trying to hold on to something.
And as I am going through the pile of flowers they are busting but not holding me back.
But this time I didn’t get hurt
Because there was a big cushion made by trees In between us.