Honey

Again the morning shines.
I can listen
More to music.
The sun takes a supreme flight.
I watch with holy eyes
I kiss your belief,
A butterfly flies
From your lips
Holy like the worshipping sun.
The yellowness
Feels close,
Winter is affection,
It is the season
To come closer.
No more prosaic eyes
Can seek
The beauty in the world.
Poetry rains
Like honey,
Music tames
The bleeding heart.

 

 

 

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© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor

 

 

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