Notes

By Vedashree B N

Dipped in black, laced with white

moving up, laying low,

letting the soothing streams flow out.

Colourless streams.

Like still quiet waters.

Newly born, no impressions.

They flow into hearts, jump into minds, and step into a very few souls.

How do they walk so soft,

yet leave feet of depth.

They walk into open doors, crooked windows, peepy holes,

needing no grandeur, just space to pour.

They fill up empty spots, wash down memories, feed the long gone, left, felt,seen.

They swirl around during the whole tune,

there and here.

in the corners and spotlights, softening each inch.

Now, the insides are full of overflowing fluid

made of broken ground crushed notes,

they are just searching for cups of white with black drops.

They want to flow out.

Out of cups.

Cups close.

Notes knock.

Cups start dripping.

By Vedashree B N