Like the illusion between dusk and dawn,
Like the merge between pink and orange,
Like the crease between the sky and cloud,
Come beautify what existed once.
A hundred and four degree fever,
With thoughts about the moments treasured,
Along the side-walk, amidst the June blossoms,
Speckled with smiles and gleam.
A gleam, a gleam, a gleam.
Admired by strangers, treasured by the heart.
The moon today, showers.
Density, overwhelming density.
With the clouds moving past.
Like the moments did.
Depicting a new picture each time.
Like the words uttered.
Will the night be repeated?
Will the words be repeated?
How can this be reversed?
How could this be cured?
Like a mid-summer rain,
Is there a mid-inevitable relief?
Lash through this tornado.
Lash through this arrogance.
Lash through this calamity.
Lash through this inevitable distress.
Come rescue, for the moments meant so.
Like the illusion between dusk and dawn.
© Deekshita Srinivas
22nd March 2016