The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
You are
A camera waiting to capture the perfect sunrise,
An umbrella going up in the wind,
Red eyes,
A splash of ink.
You are
A typewriter,
A finch,
A leaf falling into an open book.
You are all these and so much more.
The park benches wait,
The path waits.
The wind kicks out ugly leaves from the path
For you specifically.
You are a light, a gift, an aura.
You are marvellous
As the mountain peaks that roar.
You are marvellous
As the twittering birds.
You are marvellous.
You are you.
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