He stood there, just stood
watching the sight that beheld him.
He didn't move too much. Such was the sight
for an ink-soaked story-telling mind.
He stood there in serenity
in those robes pale and white
or such was the scene
when my mind was in sub-conscious kind.
He was looking out from that balcony,
some sort of strange dream.
I didn't see his face,
he was travelling into the world green.
He stood there,
gazing at whatever beheld him.
Now I sit here,
trying to recollect that vague detail.
Dreams. Momentary dreams.
Just dreams.
26.12.2017/ 28.12.2017
Comments
Post a Comment