And then there was fresh paint
thrown over the old cobweb of memories
sunlight filtered through
the brightly colored spaces
but the color of nostalgia
refused to leave, the red stained heart.
poetry and image copyright neha 2016
In response to daily prompt: Paint
Night falls in my dreams, waking them up from deep slumber…
It rolls them down gently from the mountain top, like a lullaby,
It spreads them out in the green meadows by the moon light,
It dances with them to the melody of the quiet rain,
It flies with them in the warm breeze to the sky,
Night falls in my dreams…with love
poetry and image copyright neha 2016
You remove the quiet un-disturbing dust,
that settled on the photos of yesterday,
to drift in the innocence of childhood,
again.
forgottenmeadows 