A reverie

Pages borrow
The blue of my pen
Old words combine
In fresh combinations
To finish what I imagine,
Mind flits through days and nights
I squeeze the past of my own
To shape my first creation.

Yesterday Wordsworth wrote
Of Daffodils beside a lake
Over the golden tint of nature
He left a hue, of his own
I sit here, on my desk
Dimly lit for the world
Light burning within, beside my youth
To light up a dream alone.

Lest I might remain
Trivial amidst my clan,
For I’m a little Oyster
In the vast literary ocean
As time is yet to reveal
The glow of my pearl
I write to my heart only
In pages roughly torn.

As I will flip the pages
And smell the scent
Of my fresh creation
In the light of a sunny day
Yes, sunny day it will be
With the orange, all would see
My reverie display
In the shades of reality.


2 thoughts on “A reverie

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