Saturday, February 19, 2011

morning blues

its a beautiful morning,
one that could kiss you,
in its golden sunlight,
cold air that would face you,
could soothe your
cramped mind
and remind you of dreams
misspelt and left behind.

you wish you could cry
atleast sob aloud
but your eyes remain dry,
like faint summer clouds.
you know you had loved,
you know you hadnt erred,
you're confused how you went wrong,
and what you had seen and heard.

the morning becomes prettier,
and as enchanting a seraphim,
that tears just might roll out,
and release the stream within.

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