The stream lit days of peace,
Flow past the agony of time,
So quiet, so serene, so blissful, yielding their touch softly; bit by bit,
Cruising smoothly over the field of messy emotions,
To give life to the tiny molecules of beginning,
In a supreme entrenchment of their own.
Sweet tunes pierce suspended carpets of air,
Gorgeously tranquil and splendid,
Oozing out silent tremors of love,
In circular rings of boisterous feelings,
Far distance away from the trapped world of complications,
In an ambience of mustard green dew drops,
Depicting short parables of perfect excitement,
Precarious with the fading of time.
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