Fly. Pass. And again.
There was, there is,
It is.
With the beats of an organ inside,
There comes the thoughts
Of rawness,
Full of flaws,
Yet sincere, vulnerable,
Fragile.
Another true form
Of persona
That wish to have peace
& let out
The inner most.
YOU ARE READING
Yellow and Blues
PoetryThe dance of words. In rhythm of every song there is. The sound of beating heart along with the nature and if the world is a safe place. This wide circle could have been a comfort, a home. But, no. Only in each melodies of words and graceful dance o...
