Nothing special was the vow
Nothing bad was the show
It was smooth, soft
But wild.
The canvas - covered by light
had all the emotions coloured.
But neither could I find sorrow,
Nor was I able to feel the happiness.
All was simply blank,
The canvas was blank.
The hues of life were submerged behind the soul
And the hues of death coloured the role.
With his antics everything was blur,
For yet he was the another doer.
----------------
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A Strangely Wrapped Gift.
PoetryA Strangely wrapped gift is for the hopeless who need a friend for their late night talks. It's a book made with love. It's simply a documentation of struggles, and triumph, a celebration of daily life and living. The poetry living within pages tell...
