white dots speckled the sombre sky,
lingering onto the raven void
with dark cotton rampaging up high.
weepings from above and i was annoyed.
i mumbled and prayed to see the moon
hiding among the mists like a lost possession.
then, all thoughts slumbered in the gloom,
whilst i dwell on my fickled emotions.
my ears suddenly shoot up to a voice trilling,
a sweet rhapsody from paradise up top.
my morning bursts in colours of thrillings.
and when my heart began to hop,
those little ticks, like chirps from early birds,
are humming humbly as i spot him in sight.
his dirty mug, i cared less about, but his words
brought me in the garden of sheer delight.
when the wind bustled his sugary melodies
in the deep forest of my very own heart,
where my beats were his instruments of remedy.
and the trees swayed to the rhythm of the harp.
at twilight, he became the silent moon,
he never sang the blues but rose from the woes.
and it’s easier to doze off and turn into a cocoon
because my nights never again became my foes.