The
sun was somber,
apprehensive;
It
was looking at the clouds
beginning
to weave an image
of
a cobweb that’d soon
cover it, along with its glow.
Looking
at this,
you
were writing on the page.
Words
had totally covered
your
feelings, much like the mesh above.
In
the meantime,
the
poorly drawn cobweb was done,
it
did cloud the sun
soon,
a gloom took over the day
your
words, your structures
are
failing you as you write…
pages
wasted in lifeless letters.
You
are unable to draw the exact picture
with
the acceptable rules of the craft
still
your image of verse is so deep and strong
that
you cannot go beyond
the
prescribed guidelines
you
are also scared of being outcast
even
when the gossamer has cleared
the
text on the page, washed away.
The
sun is on its track
smiling,
glowing and gleaming
at
you, so you could peacefully
personify
your response.
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