Dear
Writing a letter...
After a long time...
Felt
Writing is my only scope
My only scape...
An escape too...
You know...
Such a beauty of an afternoon
Have you noted in your veins?
It can never turn in vain...
Can she the sky be
So blue
Without thinking you?
Can those clouds be such
White
White
By Autumn so touch`ed?
Without being in you?
So?
Why this
Ponderous
Burdened
Decreptitude?
Can't you see
How the sky turned a bluish sea?
And so perfumed?
And
At the park
Children are playing in mirth...and ...
Hope is recasting more of hope...
Faith is turning into more of faith...
Why you are so delayed?
time is passing by...
Life there though waits for Eternity,
life is paddling by...
And this afternoon
Has become harmonic tune...
Surely harmonic
A blessed tune...
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