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Camouflaged Color Of Love.
Into the frames rising out of a setting sun,
I draw in a deep breath before I run....
And walked all the way out to the end to the isolated windows of love,
Seemed to burn a little brighter and more constant, coz some love stories are like a cunard ocean liner for a transatlantic crossing, in which when the love blows its horn, confeitti starts falling, from the upper decks to the docks, but with just one word of strife, that reaches the helm, the passengers(celebrations), the cunard sends the passengers home, advising love to walk in stalk (angrily), and love jutted out into the river, like the first leg of a new highway, but fails and in the end it says,,
Love you didn't fit enough the luxury space of cruise. Love is the perfect camouflage color in white wings with black flecking, like peppered moths, to land on the perfect grey bark of trees (love). No destiny for love on perfect picture of cruise. That's it.
© Mishra Poonam
I draw in a deep breath before I run....
And walked all the way out to the end to the isolated windows of love,
Seemed to burn a little brighter and more constant, coz some love stories are like a cunard ocean liner for a transatlantic crossing, in which when the love blows its horn, confeitti starts falling, from the upper decks to the docks, but with just one word of strife, that reaches the helm, the passengers(celebrations), the cunard sends the passengers home, advising love to walk in stalk (angrily), and love jutted out into the river, like the first leg of a new highway, but fails and in the end it says,,
Love you didn't fit enough the luxury space of cruise. Love is the perfect camouflage color in white wings with black flecking, like peppered moths, to land on the perfect grey bark of trees (love). No destiny for love on perfect picture of cruise. That's it.
© Mishra Poonam
