The Touch

So raven could be spotted in the sky,

with or finding no purpose of binoculars,

sweet as the baby lullaby comes sweetness,

corn breaking on the edges of the field by farmers,

who fled most of the jungles now dreamed of,

a much larger dream sown in the backyard though,

thought about putting hence a scarecrow of sorts,

while the wind blows all the gardens hollow,

there is a lurking dreamer as the wayfarer,

I am about to take a trail to the God,

and in unknowing way mended the beaten track,

and we could produce a new sun as by painting,

the sun is vibrant one which dances more than,

is sought to move with wings.




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