The need of the dark hours
The light in the bright
The need of the dark hours
The light in the bright
Mat
Helps it
me
Sitting cross legged
Keeps always the dust
Off my pants
A collection
From the past
A memoir of a sort
Residing the days
It recalls
The tumbler is so special to me
Helps it me to drink
My choice of things
I have it here
Yellow and one blue
And these kinds
Filling the scope
A pre weapon of a sort
Helps me
Not take the lashes
Of the enemy
At hand
Toys I like to play
Their are fun
This one and last
I got no count
The fabric most important
Of the life
As we living
Makes us it
Age in numbers
Tells us it
Of the moments
Gone off
Reminds us it
Of the beautiful past
And the future
That come with the hope
The Sun
The sun can cause silence
After the destruction it can come
Things may get heat up to fast
If none gets the cooling done
Where at those ice scrapes
Where we shall skate someday
Keeping the cold away?
Burning butane !
Running for the ice so cold ?
Down the summer roads
Water
A quench on my soul
Running there
Filling the Nile
Being in different forms
From water to vapour it roams
Being captivated in ice tones
Seeds
are the nature’s method of
replenishing what’s going
They are small
And with the surrounding force
They become might
From life
They give life