Strewn Minuscule Moments
<p>Century-old mountains, sky-high, await,<br />
for the fluffy cumulonimbuses to float away,<br />
or to empty themselves into the hopeful seas,<br />
to capture the streaks of blue amidst the white.</p>
<p>The clouds await that gentle streak of lightning,<br />
to caress them, so that beads of raindrops, tipper and tapper,<br />
on the ground, way below,<br />
that old man smilingly,<br />
would open up the old umbrella of memories from yesteryear,<br />
of two souls, walking closely, their skins touching,<br />
the sole umbrella for the company,<br />
a paper boat sailing in the pool of water,<br />
with their names, written on it.</p>
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