Every few seconds i try to think
Not of things or events
But names of babies
Born every few seconds
Their thoughts
Their poems
Which they must have carved
On the walls of the womb
Were they poems of love?
Emotion?
Imprisonment?
Or peace?
What strains of music accompany a life?
The second passes away...
Leaving stardust of unanswered questions...
Then the next few seconds are dimpled with another question
Am thinking about flowers
Their songs and dainty vanity
Their dialogues with the roots
Their colour and adventures with the most dandy butterfly!!!
Leaving behind a powdery hue...
The next second am thinking about Irish guys...
Their guitars and stubble
The romantic countryside
The accursed idyllic
Move on thoughts...
Move on....
Seconds punctuated with craziness.....
Ah living....
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