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Familiar Days

The mighty land awakes
far expanses pulsate,
Swarming rays stirring
retracing its paths,
Valleys remain frozen
awaiting its fate,
A new season born
mysterious till tomorrow.

Pockets of smoke
ascend repainting the sky,
Friendly scents accompany
the Copernicans out of bed,
Trumpets and ballads
on early radio shows,
The unseen clock
found counting instances.

Children run out
tumbling on streets of grass,
Their voices floating
exciting the red flowers,
Young shadows in angles
arranged bellow trees,
Older dews fall
gently from oak leaves.

Midday beneath the sun
golden flakes warmer,
My feet wander
counting the footpath squares,
Signs of life reflected
on every direction I turn,
Glass panes flaunting
tomorrows for sale.

The lazy evening
unwillingly approaching,
Lakeside motions begin
wanting not to end,
Ripples on deep waters
gradually wipes out daylight,
Clouds drift away into memory
revealing the early stars.

Flickering light bulbs
drawing gypsy moths,
Chattering townsfolk
feasting daytime conquests,
Over the hills
telescopes search the sky,
Constellations emerge
silently observing us.

Once she said
days doesn’t end at midnight,
And I replied
you cant preach that to the stars,
We continued
deep into the forever night,
Imagining a new tomorrow
to replace the familiar days.


* Wrote this to picture what I want to be, how I want to live and how I want tomorrow to be. The places, culture and names each have meanings for significant accomplishments in science, life and philosophy throughout the years.


Jeevan said…
very nice thoughts, the 3rd Children run out is good.

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for, its during the rainy seasons
when we sit admiring
the cool breeze and wandering droplets
we realize we are admiring the beauty of loneliness
from afar, of you and me