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Watching the sun
cut into a new day
everything drenched
in pale colours
clouds move with
the dead of grey
I know a place
where a velvet moon
is thrown across the
soothing sea
where the spring
mornings are endless
where there are more
flowers than tall buildings
where the ocean breeze
blows salt on our skin
where the lavender
dances with the wind
we can dream forever
escape this ordinary life
I know a place …
Clay.M
As the last
petal
      falls
from the stem
of
    your beautiful heart,
I will
catch  
         it
then own  
in my hands,  

              the most
        tenderest
                       part  
of your
          ALL !
Mornings licked amber,
wet, bright,
papaya pulp split in the grass,
rain still steaming off rooftops.

they came,
sway-backed, jewel-eyed,
weaving cobalt ribbons through the cricket fields,
feathers slick as oil spills.

I waited,
barefoot, rice pinched in small fingers,
not offering—inviting.

they took
beaks sharp,
eyes glinting like they carried whole summers behind them—
but they never left.

even when the rains came,
hard and urgent,
they stayed, hips swaying under silver sheets,
tails dragging through warm mud.

I thought they danced for me,
as if the whole monsoon belonged only to the girl watching,
silent, secret-spined,
hair curling at the nape,
too small to touch,
too quiet to call them by name,
but they saw me.

I know they did.

they crowned me in silence—
Princess of Puddles,
Keeper of Small Hungers.

somewhere between the serpent hunts,
the rain-slick pirouettes,
I learned how beauty moves,
how it takes without asking,
how it lives without needing to be seen.

they were never mine,
but I belonged to them,
to the fevered mornings,
to the blue-green shimmer folded beneath heavy air,
to the secret language only wild things speak

something wordless,
something that never leaves you.
Every morning, on my way to school, I passed by those peacocks—swaying through the fields, feathers damp with night rain—the first beautiful thing that ever made me feel chosen. Feeding them in my backyard became the quiet ritual of my childhood, and still remains one of my fondest memories.
Listen,
his music shattered stars,
ripped apart constellations,
and the universe crumbled.

King or Queen,
he bowed to none,
severed his piano legs,
to feel the vibrations through the floor,
he bowed to music.

Some called him mad,
others called him genius.
But in the end,
he became the music.
Fun fact- Ludwig van Beethoven was deaf and had abusive childhood.
True inspiration, to never give up on your dreams...
Soft are the sighs of the evening’s embrace,
laced in the hush of a silver-lit breeze.
Waltzing in whispers, the night leaves a trace,
brushing my cheek with a delicate tease.

Gossamer ribbons of moonlight descend,
trailing my footsteps in flickering white.
Coy is the dance as the fireflies blend,
spun in the glow of a star-lover’s light.

Fingers like lace trace the edge of a dream,
velveted laughter afloat on the air.
Oh, how the midnight was made to be seen—
darling and dainty, yet wickedly fair.

Tell me, sweet wanderer lost in my spell,
would you still chase me if I never fell?
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.

Dad says the house must be clean,
or my friend can’t come.
He is coming tomorrow—he really is.

The vacuum only holds so much.
I work all day.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.

But it’s not clean.
I sweep and sweep—maybe I weep.
The tears stain. It’s not clean.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.

I put my toys away.
I stack and stack,
boxed and neat.
But I imagine a game.
I play alone—still make a stain.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.
Yet I’m still playing alone
Love ties bows
around garbage bins.

Turns losses into wins.

Brightens a sky,
shortens a queue.

Changes one into two.
A gallant man
Donned his Top Hat
Tipped the brim
Smiled ceremoniously

As the young ladies passed by
A glint, a gleam
In the corner of the eye
A gentleman by and bye

At the close of the day
The foyer was the place
An unspoken ceremony
Of  Style and Grace

He Doffed
His outer wrap
Dress Coat Top Hat
Cleaned and pressed  

Kept preserved
For the well dressed
At the ready
Of the gentleman‘s leisure

Until the next day
For the well deserved
Sanctimonious
Ceremonial
Continually observed

A prominent display
Of pomp and circumstance
(Pompenstanse)

An elegant dance
Of the well to do
In the year of our Lord 1882
BLT Webster’s Word of the day challenge
2-27-25 Doff
To Dolph a hat or other piece of clothing is to take it off
FYI
To Don a hat is to wear it
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