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Crowded foresight —  
      thoughts stacked sky-high,  
     cluttered windows of a dreaming mind.  

              Out of mind,  
           out of sight…  
     yet somehow, I keep seeing  
     the better days of my life  
       skimming the edge  
        of a hopeful smile.  

                 That smile —  
          soft, unspoken —  
           given with time,  
        drawn from deep thoughts  
            folded in silence.  

                    . . .  

         Any life worth seeing —  
       any better version of me —  
    is shaped by what I’m willing  
          to put light on.  

               So I  
            paint my  
       foresight with  
   fireflies  and  sunbeams,  
     hoping the dark  
          makes room  
             for the  
            light I  
               keep.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
Evil is a name of a foeman, as I live.
Madam, in Eden, I'm Adam.
Was it a car or a cat I saw?
A man, a plan, a canal: Panama.

Never a foot too far, even.
No, sir, away! A papaya war is on.
Step on no pets.
A Toyota's a Toyota.
Lalit Kumar Feb 27
Where does the sun go when night arrives?
It hides in dreams, painting golden skies.

Do fallen leaves miss the touch of trees?
They dance with the wind, wild and free.

Why do lovers whisper under the moon?
To keep their secrets wrapped in silver tune.

Does the ocean ever tire of the shore?
It returns each night, longing for more.

Will time erase the echoes of us?
No, love lingers in dust and dusk.

— The End —