Blobs
of yellow and limpid green-
bright, the wet eyes of a crying child.
a trickle of tears, dimming the sheen -
pregnant prayer on her lips..
A gust of wind tousles her hair -
kissing the brown of the trees
silence again - again her transfixed stare.
A soothing stare that would answer a query
if there were any -
A capacity to softly love that would defy all-
if there were any.
~
Shombuddho ~
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