In the still frame of reflections, time inconspicuous. Summer stories bright as daylight reframed winter tales of freezing cold.
“What’s real?” She evaluated the images on window pane.
“Moving clouds and your absence.” The rest an illusion of proximity just like Him.
Tiny white bristles
Sailing parachutes of wild,
Field of dandelions
I am no flower
I have but a wild side
Range of emotions
Wish I am the dandelion that
sail the many thoughts of
faith, trust and courage, and
*** Published in I Heal, and You Heal
© Deeya Nambiar
The bottle that transformed into a vase had no flowers to brighten the mood.
Sunlight streamed through the windows and filled its emptiness.
“Live in the moment.”
© 2021, Deeya Nambiar