Sunday, 9 August 2020

A morning note

The stillness of the morning air
Spreading misty forest fumes
Across the horizon—

The million year old scents
Do tint the city scape
With reminders of old—

And presently,
The sweet combo
Of rather classical tech
Amidst the mother's
Arms and breath
Does send shockwaves
Of potential and vitality
Purging through the spine.

MS2020

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