The sun was mellowing like a luscious mango and a small slit on its zest, poured out its savoury sweet rays in the sky turning the never-ending space into a blend of coloured popsicles, from the brightest orange to a chrome of honey like amber reviving my dull loafing adulthood back into a fanciful imaginary childhood.
I am reckoned to talk about rocket science to see things like those of spacecrafts and satellites. But all I think of is walking over rainbows And riding on white unicorns unlikely of a grown up with rational outlook but promising to a dreamy child wanting to fly higher and higher on the carpet of cotton clouds.
All through the years, the imagination of a child sheared off by precise and wise reasoning, the innocence of the heart uprooted right away once it believed it grew to what it has become today. everything turned from feathers to ashes when we learned that we can fly without wings swirl up high in the sky with winged machines but still cannot touch and make cloud ***** like the way we imagined and dreamt when we were naive and small.