the koel sits by helios in raspberry lit skies
above the golden clouds, where blues melt the light
downpour of seas
the window raves in flashes
young petrichor fills the room and water kisses
our cheeks touch in brimming beige of twinkles
arid azaleas inhales once more
parallel yet still together, for better or worse
the riverbed cries with gills and bubbles
you say “don’t leave yet” and
build soft walls of merino all around us,
and as much as I want to abide these hand-knit groves
I have to leave
to come again tomorrow
so I step afoot in my neon vans.
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