Tuesday, November 13, 2007


between the garden floor
and the sky,i think.
I imagine a roar,
and I wink.

A hue too many to write,
but all is from something white.
In smokes they roam,
they float on foam.

Petite flower.
A damsel and a lover.
The rowdy rogue
the hungry vogue.

Strewn around many a flight
and a few fight.
flutter few funny flies,
the best- the butterflies.

between the sky and the
floor,there are many too
many and more then many!
It is just filled with any.
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