I Will Write A Poem

He used to tread lightly as if walking on concrete, barefoot― He used to tread lightly as if walking on concrete, barefoot―

He used to tread lightly as if 
walking on concrete, barefoot― 
to capture the apologetic 
colours of rainbow in lake. 

A spinning top, he wanted 
to float on water and touch 
the soft contours in depth― 
wrestling with waves. 

A dark sky was hovering 
around. Something was rising 
from the black hills, as if 
on fire. I had never seen before― 

the golden moon, rising. Two 
song birds darting to and fro 
as if in great agony to save 
the nestlings from the lynx.