Nascent images bloomed
My brewed morning
With words as if fragmented clothes
I thought,
They will play with me-
A criss-cross algorithm
Between simplicity and public vain
And then will appear
A blessed halo
And silver whispers
that will somehow ring by my side
With nightshades and soft clouds-
A brimful of common poetry.
Because only I know the voice
Natural, unscarred within
And the serene utterance
As it colours the morning prayer.
Then, a cradled shadow
A wet dripped morning,
Raindrops two or three,
And a cottage of green simplicity.
The rugged path will be my destiny
It is not just worldly wisdom
for my wishy-washy tale
But my whimsy haze
And my romantic spree
An eternal wish for an April spring
With my brewed morning
And my winged pen
Leading my green path
Towards my bundled sky
And a grim, earthy solace.
~Sayani Mukherjee

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