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| Image credit: Google images |
Inside the box, a pathway
a dream
lies
hands that wrote and
sang
myriad stories
from the waves on the
sands
from the flowers to
the brooks
eyes looked for colours
scarlet and gray united as one
beyond black and white reality
ears heard the tune
from a distant land
an aria that thrilled
the heart
waiting to be devoured
in time.
It once looked for
mangoes in October
coloured the dove, caressed
by the few
hummed a tune that
sounded like the dew
the bird tried to
flutter its wings
inspirited song did the heart sings
reveries from within in
requiems died
now in deep slumber,
a silent world inside.
In this silence
freshly deceased dream
gleaming in flame-like
waves
with flower-like warmth,
essence
through the
dispossessed organs
a keepsake
exuding through a
stream
in quiet footsteps
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