Wednesday, August 3, 2011

blossoms

inhibited emotions and actions
bring out the rhythm
maybe the rhythm of pain
maybe the rhythm of life

counting hours fascinates the
roamer; in me - looking at
the window; bring a canvas
to paint my heart, on

that little spot, today on the
face of the mountain
and yesterday it was; trapped
in concrete prison

the form has flown, yet
the smile got tagled in
the bearings; of the concrete truck
and it all settled; sadly

and that spot, the little one,
has in it all, to make
a poet's life, smile
and blossom, with its presence!

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