The Horizon
you melt into the scene
the prickle of newly dressed grass
under toe connects you with all that is
mosquitoes hiss in your ear
they speak a dialect all their own,
“feed me the life source from the bone”
merrymaking for you is climbing
beyond the highest peak
of your understanding
the horizon awaits for you
honey twisting in and out
drizzled into a sherbet flare
decadent shades of paint send you soaring
through the celestial sphere
shadows of fireworks live here
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– Much love, Esha
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