Purple blue occurs between a fine line,
Of courses seen unseen,
The thin saw,
Breaks creepy silences.
Carving delicate curves,
In midst of tan sand.
A pair of bare feet,
Receiving moon,
Stands stark in awe,
In leaving moments of knights.
Picking up on elegant bits of land,
Unwrapping the kid,
A magical land of red blue hues,
Like a thermos from inner shame of coldness.
Light blue reflects the moon,
The water seems same.
Below a starry path,
Nuzzling yellow starts emanating glow,
Covers the bare fancy feet,
In a kindness repetition,
That leaves an ache of loneliness.
Running in morning dews,
Touched by sheer icy flakes,
Poppies growing on a chest,
Withering every mark of an unknown land’s return.
- Aaliya Akhun
T.Y.B.A
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