When the clouds loaded themselves on to the sky,
When the birds hopped and flew to trees, chirping by,
When the leaves scattered and the wind blew and
There were fresh droplets of water pearls in the morning dew.
When there were flowers blooming and swaying, kissing the horizon,
My little mind and the writer in me, wanted to capture the innate beauty of the carnations,
The little devil in me bore a blank expression, unable to sprout a thought of imagination…
Complete darkness and absolute stillness,
Where the thoughts were in a state of perfect numbness,
They refused to flow out of the deep dungeon,
For, they were severely and acutely drought stricken.
An internal rupture of the crust of thoughts and emotions,
Is what it took to shake up the volcanic imaginations,
The slumbering thoughts erupting to ooze out the lava of a writers imaginations,
Hope my creative writing does not, yet again enter the state of hibernation !!
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