Falling drops
fell from far,
fell onto my frame..
..the painting on a wooden board.

Smudges that were once adorned with traces and strokes of paint,
the drops- truffled them back to the thought, one shade at a time.

Soon enough the "soon" came.
Sooner-
than what it takes for a drop to reach-
with slow slide down my glasses,
the drops stopped following the wind.

As the roaring echoes of them hitting on- the wrap over my heart got louder..

Aware of what it may wreck on me..
I let the colours get where the rain took them.
The blues from skies went with the yellow,
hues of orange from the sea, found its solace with the white..
Red of my wounds, drained into the green of grass..

Under nothing, i stood still.
watching the memories of a season on a canvas,
getting back to the thoughts as they were..
Wonder, how our eyes can be clouds sometimes, raining over our own canvas..?



© ak+