• Published : 20 Jan, 2015
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Every passing day

A twist of a kaleidoscope.

Colourful shards that play

With old fragments of hope.

Shake the round hard tube

To chase your dreams away;

But the pieces remain true

To hues of yesterday. 

A floating feather on wisp-like wings,

A baby's touch, sweet whisperings.

Soft swirls of shapes, sudden smiles bring.

Fleeting memories that flew, letting go of their death-like cling. 

Patterns new are but patterns old,

Whirling tides of fate as we've often been told.

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Upasana

Member Since: 11 Jul, 2014

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