Here, on this earth,
Where nothing stays,
Like,
The passing cloud,
The flowing stream,
The rushing wind,
The fresh bloom and the fading flower,
The seed, the cub,
The withered tree, the dying lion,
The autumn, the spring,
Like wars, people, and innocence..
You flow too,
And so does that one dream,
That both our eyes painted..
Ah, shades of love,
Smudged by tears;
When colours seem meaningless,
I request for a streak of gold –
Can I hold on to you,
For a minute now –
And cherish it for a lifetime?
This memory,
The joy of a minute’s beauty.
Picture by Sean Magrath under CC license