Me and My Muse

Monday, February 05, 2007

Unconventional Rain

The world, as it would matter
Among recursive windows
Sand would falter.
Brink of a blistering twinkle
Amid curiosities, of ditch granules
Of shaded spurts of adulthood
Of love that soothes pain.
Tears in unconventional rain

Did it or does it exist
Or got creased under sudden fancy
What occupies to forsaken that it did




Post a Comment

<< Home