On the Streets of Paris

‘Twas the wretched dream again.

Reminding me of a glorious day,

A time that my memory refuses to forget.

‘Twas a balmy summery day.

I wandered the streets of Paris again.

Where the trees bloomed decorously

Casting shadows on empty lanes.

There were bustling shops selling

Tiny trinkets and many souvenirs.

Parisian buildings were everywhere.

With the prettiest-looking artistic balconies

I stopped a moment to absorb the view

Then, ended up clicking just a photo of you

– A fallen abandoned leaf by my feet.

Kidding,

Light seeped in

Through a cracked window

Illuminating the room.

Paint brushes and stained cloth

Lay scattered on the

Greying dusty wooden floor.

An artist worked tirelessly

Somewhere in a corner.

Dustful Dreams

Yesterday, he called me in my dreams

Strolling in the dark green meadows

I turned around to look at him

Then walked away.

Next thing I know,

He is by my side

Giggling and questioning me with his eyes.

So I stop and ask, “Who are you?”

To which he replied “Your daemon.”

The Spring Comes

When spring comes,

Nights are shorter

Days are longer and warmer.

 

When spring comes,

It promises life and growth

Along with new hopes.

 

When spring comes,

Birds chirp, bees buzz

Trees bloom with fresh buds.

 

The seasons have changed

When spring comes

There’s always merriment

& freshness in the air.