Traces of movements

Drawing in the air,

An agile body,

Leaving traces of movements,

So you trace back to her.

A Pitch black room,

Plays her canvas,

Void of limit, endless space.

Through the first of the breezy drizzles,

The small of lilacs reaches her nostrils.

It is that time of the year,

When her spirits rise,

Clumsy steps of toes,

Swinging of stretched arms,

Her impulsive response.

Meeting the rhythm,

Of the coloured singing bird,

A juvenile attempt,

To glide like an eagle.

The shortest life of a happy earthworm,

Her bending torso imitates in deep detail.

A gratitude paid for the warmth of the furnace

Slithers on her back,

Kissing the bitter-cold floor.

Motionless in the hugging arms,

Of a silent midnight,

When the workmen meditate,

In a half conscious state,

Picking up pace,

Along with the progressing day,

She documents every living tale.

The blind dancing girl,

In a pitch-black room,

Leaves traces of movements,

So you trace back to her.

Like what you read? Kindly leave your thoughts in the comments, helps me write better. Never miss my posts, do follow up 🙂

with love,

magykars ❤


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