A drop of snow on the face of the sun
a stone throw from the rainbow
fondly close over the tulip colour stroke
next to the Snow White's looking mirror?

What a sniff it gotten on the way?
Turquoise butterfly is on the fly
up on the top floor is lapis lazuli sky.
Did it not only deduce the hunger pang
time is on the run took the breath away
even forgot the death maybe an inch away!

Will the star
show up on my way?
Take a shot in the dark
I can't promise
to the firefly.

The moon will
morph to the sea
in the dark
swing and sway.

The robin doesn't need
to sing to the tuberose
that doesn't delay
blossoms on the way!

Don't be upset
with the rose
thorns are meant
to be close!

Keeping a bit private
after the night
the sun goes all out.
Over the painted rose
and through the shady clouds.

East west north and south
at the end of the day always returns
the twilight could never forget  
a lurking little mole
the sun's missing beauty spot!

The ambling twilight goes deep
it isn't all black
a full moon shines on her brow
neither the night is pitch dark
down the mountains of floating stars.

Tomorrow again yet in the broad daylight
the sun will tuck into a throw of twilight
something is still private a black mole in the light.

A glance in the mirror
one step closer to the rose
On the face of the sun
a drop of snow.
Under the same cloud
sings a nightingale.
Close to you
not far at all
sea wide from the sky
blue lotus-fall!

When the paintbrush of the day
is tucked away
and the sunset dipped
in the forest of the night
the moon wanes and waxes
down the hills of stars  
atop that shady wrap.

Who peeps in
where the sleeping beauty wakes
is any one guess
nor it's a amateur's business.

Far from the half lit astral canopy
any bucket lowered  
deep down on the ground
into a barrowed well of colours
comes up with a Joseph of Cannon
the firesome story goes on.
The same fire burner
is also the same fire extinguisher
Alexander the Great intrigued life water
cool serene cup of Ab-e Hayat elixir!

A paintbrush on fire
it isn't yet done.

Paints in broad daylights
in cool cloudy darks
often relaxes down the line
when the rain pours down
and the flute is on play
it isn't yet done.

The sea at the clement eve
strives to splash over
this rainbow-kissed brush
the moon will thaw the billow
with moonlight
before the waking
sleeping beauty's eyes
and the night will pour over it,
it's full bowl eternally pitch black
only to see lighting up
zillions of stars
on the paintbrush
it isn't yet done!

Apparently that looks only kohl
the night eyes in within a colour
eternally weighed down
out of sight mass hues
looking to visualise a scoop
paints yet one more first light.
Full of colours the paintbrush
it isn’t yet done!