Friday, September 13, 2013

Misty Lips!

Smudges, they shift
with each sigh from 
the old artist’s soul,
in between his freezing
brush strokes.
Pure bliss,
his heart creates
the lines which 
let life flow
in a sedate pace,
the perfect cadence
to feel heaven,
which plays hide n seek
in an unknown,
wet, yet misty cycle;
The right music 
to feel you, in the breeze;
to taste your lips in
the fresh green fern
I kissed...

Yeah, I kissed...
Ever so gently,
so, so softly;
lest I wake up the 
God from his dream.


ujjwal said...

Some piece of work Sire!

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