Of colors and a notebook...

Some mornings
Bring only pictures,
Like a mild drizzle ...
And a notebook mine
Getting filled...

Like Your unseen string
Of colors gradually getting hold
Of me,
Like discovering the child in me,
Like finding my mind in your perfume,
Like walking by mind,
Like walking several miles
Untired,
Like walking for three hundred years,
Like reaching Your Grand mansion...

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