Woven patches of grey,
hues slow in momentum.
Tattered gaps letting through
              gleams of radiance.

But in motion do the faults
get sewn in silver linings.
And this blanket  
             mesmerising below.

Then the lonely flower opens
       its petals, reaching towards
the patch work of loving greys
                 yearning for a touch.

A singular drop falls, taking its
                   time to meet below.
So far has it descended to gently
              caress her wilting petals.

Replenished dew drops hang from
                         now pristine colours.
It waves in the subtle breeze,
      swaying in a dance of gratitude.
its amazing what a little kindness can give to others.
Wounds were never
             afflicted with
repercussion of syllable lesions..

No quite the opposite,
       Unfamiliar tastes on the
       tongue, cleansed improper tastes.
Washing ones mouth out with salt clears undue tastes..
Swollen branches arched
               towards the new born

Opening there branches to
          let them flourish on
           the open skies  
beyond there yearning grasps
25 words
A medium of perpetual reflections
that never swing
                   between the  antecedent
occasions that were between now.

For a horizon never setting is rising
before the winding fractions that
             perceive the timely momentum
going forth before every step.

The past is a frame of what is expected,
        what was learnt as mistakes.
Guiding us to not misstep on those
          faults but build bridges forward.

We have so many memories to make,
               so many pages not yet written.
But every page is a footstep and were
only half way through our novel
                                         of life's moments.
Beyond the throws of gravities
                     memories swinging.

Collecting  views of
                           sorrowful glances.

Swinging, a hangman
                          regretful essences.

But never once feeling the noose
                   tighten, tears hang here.
Cuteness wasn't this adorable,
                 "Buy1 get 1free"

Never one to let bargains growl at me..

                 I brought the pack!!
                           ­          "Smitten"
Following the words of tongue
         that flow like rivers,
coming from different streams.
             Each can venture on different
meanings, like the flow carrying petals
          of indifference upon
                   the riptide of contemplation.

Even though everyone shall drink from
             the knowledge flowing, each taste
            may divide from another and even
though the source maybe the same.
         Every sunrise is minutely different from
Gleaming on the flow of words, the reflection
                   upon each maybe not the taste of others.

Let us not differ on the source, but let us drink
                quietly upon the reflection that with
every drink brings ripples of reflection upon
all that drink from the knowledge that is swallowed.
There is one source and we are all part of its meaning.
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