• zeee_zephyrs 27w


    As the aureate strings seem to ooze out from behind the mountain caps and not so frosty but feeble zephyrs move calmly through my finger gaps, I roll my hair into a bun and from my toolkit collect some words, make a garland of alliterations matching with the whispers of the zephyr and conceal it in my diary.


    When the azure and amort firmament behind white beds turns red then blue and then moonlit, personification is in my toolkit for these, to personify them with the human nature of love, calmness and shining with scars.


    There is a tall tree beside my house, the home of morning melodies, whose leaves dance to the chirping of birds. For me, they are my abode of blithe which bestrew sweetest euphony. I had secretly once woven rhymes under moonlight and now it's the time to enunciate it to the young birds and appreciate them for their first flight and to wish them luck for the horizon.


    The autumn season has arrived and the meadows look flaxen. The impuissant ochre leaves, which intended to make a free fall, now flow on the barque of zephyrs. I espy on that one leaf, who has yet not reach its destination. I sit down writing free verses for that free leaf who bid adieu to its home for its destiny.


    Petrichor, as I said, now feels unpleasant because it often brings thunders with it. This aroma has again hit so, this time I would dip my poesies in heavy hyperboles and won't let windstorms leave them half broken as my heart.

    On weekends, I will take complete break on Saturdays and on Sundays I would inhume all my dolour to write sonnets to the artist whose hands govern the colours over his fingertips and create a scenery for each day.

    #tools #zeee_fav
    PC- me

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