Monday, October 1, 2012

New York city Central Park (Lost In The Middle of no Where)

Thursday Flash Fiction Week 28: Innocence and Dreams

Scaling small rocks, exhaling smog,
Eyes caught wide open at NY city central park,
Wild like deer, as white
and colorful as a grounded kite,
We caught the butterflies flying high,
decorating the thick faced sky,
Never mind figures of geometry,
Forget about limits or infinity,
Imaginary shapes twists down, each tangle
a well formed triangle,
Lost at the blurring moments,
by heavy sentiments,
Breath is taken by mote of dust,
There is an urge to sting such delicate lust
like bees, but must stop
before getting drunk by the overwhelming honey drop.

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