Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Paper

Colours.Shapes.They make life what it is.
The huge rectangular navy blue sky rained that night.
Colourless drops of hope.
Felt like heaven,or a lot like it.
Our grey city was bathed by the neons that evening.
Me in green.You in crimson.
Little square taxis and long blue buses stopped to see us by.
Smiles were smiled,Zimmerman signed-
On a white cylinder in a white box.
Sands of time drew a shape-
On the land we stand on.
Today,that circle is complete again,
And we are under the same sky.
Blue winged butterflies dance on our palms-
Drawing white lines of dreams-old and new,
And we are glad that,now,they're all true.

7 comments:

inihos said...

nice...

Neel said...

What can I say to not disturb the soft murmur of dainty memories? I 'd rather not disturb the still green leaves in the mellow sun...love's a multitude of knots resonating randomly at every odd and even moments-like an end-september shower that cleans the city, expecting the arrival of someone innocent-only to be untied into a single thread, simple and wistful.

^*^Clouds^*^ said...

Truly amazing!

Astraeus said...

beautiful , amazing words...
i am intoxicated with the smell of paper of new books

TinTin said...

nice poem

Fishy! said...

I have been linked on your blog as 'The Ex-First Lady'??????????
Mane really!

Neel said...

The tolling of the iron bell brings back distant memories. Memories that keep coming back at every odd and even moments. This is one of them. Two circles completed. Ticking away the moments with fights, arguments, bitterness and lots of love.