It was a sign.
An indication of a change.
The dawn in some tone of apricot.
It was unusual.
And I could hear the trumpet of my heart,
From above.
Came he.
Gentle. Cold. And touched.
As soothing as it was,
I lifted the lush eyelid.
I fell in love.
I broke open the ramparts.
And bloomed in ochre.
"Beautiful", said he.
And he drenched me.
While I swayed captive.
I knew the time not,
Until the dark took over.
And said he,
"Golden is what you deserve,
The dark is deceit,
So am I "
And the he coerced,
While the ochre petals triggered.
I cried. To twin him.
Yet he shunned.
And then he left.
I still bloom.
In the fragrance of his petrichor.
I bloom.
For me.




-mumthaaz