The First Story

The first story on your lips tomorrow
Will be about a land without any sorrow
Will be about a mundane thought-wing
The branches of my dried up soul reach out to you, In search of a new leaf this spring…

The time is crumbling around in the favour
Of nights who want to be lonely and drowsy
So many love filled balloons of colour
Have filled up my heart’s basket
Your smile still reminds me of the unleashed meadows of endless sunshine…

Your shoulder is like a miracle oasis
On the evening when grey gets soaked into my playful misery,
The other half of the world struggles to find a rainbow sky,
sips melancholy from earth’s axis
I find a friend to talk me through coffee cups of mystic pathways, and sing to me tunes of new leaves on old trees..

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