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Devout people are truly trite
They peer in others
To see only light.
For they react like mothers.

Never doubt the gold
For as I know
“Nothing gold stays”.
To them I don't reap what I sow,
To them gold could never grow cold.

I do ease them into the night
When I show my light.
For those who take my gold
Adore my sight.
K Balachandran Nov 2017
a knock on the door,
comes a coy poetic thought.
ecstatic moments.
K Balachandran Sep 2017
name she coyly said,
lost between pout and cleavage.
need a second chance.
Josh Sep 2014
A coy fish in a pond with nowhere to swim nor splash. The clear water allowed him to see in all four directions, though there was nothing to catch the eye but four concrete walls and bunches of lily pads.

A tiny spectator circled the grass surrounding the pond. She looked as though she were only 5 years old. A second later she was hastily ripping a lily pad from its roots. Upon discovering no magic beneath its belly, she dropped it and began on her way.

The lifeless plant rested at the ponds edge for weeks before the wind carried it back to its place. It was somehow different now, wrinkled and stretched at the stem, though it floated uniform among the rest. The coy hid in the shadows created by the walls, and watched.

— The End —