A soft glimmer shone from up

The lamp post- so tall and concrete,

Growing dimmer – though in leisure

Against the gilded hues of the day’s first light


Air ballooned up my lungs,

As I sucked it in fervently.

Pristine and fresh- smelt of nothing

But the damp earth beneath my feet.


The mossy green slurry splashed around

And dripped down the sides,

Spilling about the tall pail

Streaking its lackluster grey white.


Pitcher in my hand, I commenced the sprinkle

In a repetition and ritualistic procedure

Till the saturated ground gleamed at me –

Olive in an ostentatious glamor.


In a planned and practiced pattern

Speckling the wet canvas with dots,

Deciding the conceptual tessellation

Limestone powder – I dribbled about.

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