Eclectic..

Long, long back, he told me that prosaic words sound better than poetic ones.. Prolly able to put forth a blended array of shades at the same time…

There maybe different skies in various contours…but the drifting clouds are the same ones.. in little words.. in a glance maybe ..or a breath? I speak to you, as I speak to my soul...in aparajita and anusua….and a world with tiny bundles of joys… Written across pages of my eyes…by this river.. by that sea…

In an ursine utopia,
Smothered in sweet lullabies,
Felt in songs past mid-night,
Touched in the gentle foray into the summer,
Trickled time..
Vagabond and slobbered..

~
Love,
Me..