Flowers fade/sky sail's and soars/connoisseurs creep cries/silences scream/ Bewitching beauty/saddening sunset/a cream colored cottage/ lusty loneliness/dingy darkness/wavering waves/tall trees twinkling/colours clinking/stars sewn seraphic/wounded wine/ poached peaches/sweet scents. . 16th October 2021 The sky was grey today. It didn't speak like it used to. It slowly turned lavender with a gem sewn into it. Even the trees were silent. The gentle humour grew faintly, with each ascending hour in the book of time, from seconds to minutes to hours. Some oranges and reds sneaked their way into the tiny house on the lonesome hill, splashing it's way through the windows queerly. They didn't seem to have lost their way neither did they find one. In the gentle innocence of a child they hid in my languid eyes and black short hair, turning golden after the rendezvous.
Flowers faded, even in a pool of water with ample sunlight. They weren't meant to live but I forced them to. Though they lost to the desires of time and death, still the sense of saving a life form perceived in my heart; the flowers were abandoned by some stoic lovers as they too, had lost to their own lovers. A lover abandons another lover in a different form. So I picked them up gently yesterday, to retrieve and find traces of some leftover love but it only led me to overwhelming lust and precarious desires.
The little cottage praised by the soaring wind stood firm upon the hill, where I lived with a library of thoughts and emotions, all breathing in the restless words of a forgotten poetess, who still breaths but has lost all her blood in her veins to the ink pot in which she dipped her peacock feathered quill and wrote till the early hours of the day, disturbed by the rising dawn and the falling night.
On such an evening she lied to the cities of youth and recklessness so that they could abandon her and leave her in her chaos; ruins of her former self. She built herself one by one, piece by piece; a Michelangelo perfecting her David, and so well did she make her ruins into the little cottage, fate and destiny resigned from her life forever.
She still lives with me like a haunting spirit, a dream that we all live in, and seldom leaves the cottage draped in sleek cream colored hues, stained with the faltering kisses of her former love, and the faltering kisses of the dusks and dawns in which she rekindled her light every night, only to be distinguished the next morning.
The waves of the sea will still clammer, the sun will still rise, the flowers will still bloom, even if she and me go out of everyone's sight.
/The stars shine/the moon sings lullabies/the seas sing ballads for the nights/ you and me still fight to survive./
Where the stars are visible To embellish the nights With the beautiful shine, Where the trees are standing Firmly in a queue to provide Shelters to the birds, Where the rivers are flowing To let the fields flaunt Wonderful greenery, Where the flowers are spreading Fragrance all around along With the blowing wind, Where the day begins with The very first ray of the sun Spreading hope filled shine, Where still peace resides In every heart working Hard to live life happily.