tagNon-Erotic PoetryThe Colour Green

The Colour Green


Lying in the shadows of
the old banyan tree,
little green caterpillars walking,
as the sinuous ripples
of My love as
she dances
over Me.

What can it mean,
that the pitter-patter
of rain
through verdant green
to the will of One
who would take

Is this the way My life is,
of all colour
except green?
Nay, for after the first
flush of spring,
blooms come alive
in an explosion
of a riot of colours.

She never stopped her movements,
her dance,
                never ending,
                                      taking what I gave,
keeping it ensconced in her arms,
fretting My brow
as I dreamt.

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byRazzRajen© 2 comments/ 2062 views/ 0 favorites

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