As i run my finger over the dewdrops in this fine winter morn,
the gloss of the water reflects the horizon...
the twilight skyline,
topped with the black outlines on the sides of those dark green tree leaves,
and the blue hues in the skies...
it seems to be no less than an artwork
after moments of being lost in that beauty
my eyes roll about only to see an old countryside backyard fence.
and slowly there come the first rays of sunshine,
the light after a storm they say...
there is the old garden gate ,
with huge vines covering it
as green and alive as ever,
with buds ready to blossom and dew drops of water as clear as diamonds pure than ever...
all this fading away into a lively patch of grass surrounded by patches not so merry
seems like it just created its own happiness among all sorrows
but perhaps for many beauties around here,
their time has come...
to die and relive ,
to fall and rise ,
to make their own happiness too...
for every little thing around this eternity
has a BIG story to be told
soo many stories...
unheard...
unseen...
by anyone...
not u...not me...no one.
Comments
Post a Comment