*Golden warmth of sun doodled
Something on her cheek.
Like the resurrection of soft dawn in Alaska,
Gradually she opened her cheery eyes
And whispered inside my numbness,*
“I can make colours fly.”
*Slumber shattered into pieces of bliss
As she entangled the tenderness
Of her fingers, and
Her palms in synthesis,
And made it fly like a mythical butterfly.
My amused self asked her curiously,*
“Where are the colours?”
*Holding her dancing butterfly
Infront of my eyes
She replied in a honeyed voice,*
“Those are flying amidst your insight.”
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
*Golden warmth of sun doodled
Something on her cheek.
Like the resurrection of soft dawn in Alaska,
Gradually she opened her cheery eyes
And whispered inside my numbness,*
“I can make colours fly.”
*Slumber shattered into pieces of bliss
As she entangled the tenderness
Of her fingers, and
Her palms in synthesis,
And made it fly like a mythical butterfly.
My amused self asked her curiously,*
“Where are the colours?”
*Holding her dancing butterfly
Infront of my eyes
She replied in a honeyed voice,*
“Those are flying amidst your insight.”
