Thursday 10 July 2014

Haiku-I

Rivers at the foot
of mountains
streams always, like blood.

Never running dry,
its sad, happy,
stoic, meditative.

The valley
thick with forests,
sunbeams like spotlights.

Dust dancing,
like dazed drunken
actors of a bankrupt company.

I find strange
noticing these,
unlikely of me.

But, your presence
makes me
nuanced, subtle.

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