I remember the
Colorful question
Mark in my old
Sketchbook from
When I was 13
A clueless rhythm
Shook me to the
Core while the
Sea failed to kiss
The shore
I stood still
My feet crushing
The sand underneath
Waiting for answers
Then in the distance
I watched the sun set
Birds flying toward it
The sky was a remant
Of its presence and
Maybe I am too
A remnant of a
Purpose hiding in
Plain sight,
Dressed in white
Like a pilgrim awaiting
God’s call
My colourful question
Mark is a rainbow turning
Prisms into miracles.
-Nameera.
i love the color, the words and your thoughts
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Thanks a ton!
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My pleasure always
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