Scribble

Treedom

Green mornings

Of snail placed days

Where every ray

Falls with joy.

These leaves ignite

A lazy breeze

Gently it pulls

And up I fly.

On a branch up high

Of unspoken thoughts

A forgotten flower

Breathes it’s old sigh.

Tasting the first sunshine

Nibbles turn to bites

As the heat rises

Every petal smiles.

Scribble

Paper without a pen

ā€‹Maybe paper exists only for the pen,

Yearning to be marked by it

Drenched in its ink within a few moments

Forever carrying its scratches & scribbles.
All it takes is a mini-catharsis though

A shot of new-age individualism maybe;

Stories don’t always come from outside & beyond

The best ones are often found within.
A fold here & tuck there

Shifting forms yet still the same

Choosing from being the medium or the story

The choice is always your own.

Scribble

Up/Down

I used to love getting high,

Thought I could leap out & fly,

Never do I once recall worrying

What if flying would turn into falling.

What was once laughed off as fear,

Is now a way of life & called caution.

Looking up, dreaming & taking leaps,

Has given way to looking down, calculations & breathing deep.