Living like a nomad, through the rivers,

Wandering through the wilds, wondering where to go.

As I look beneath the cold blanket of snow,

Is it the rustic wood waiting to show?


Gazing into the distance, far up the sky,

Is it the hue of leaves to be fallen dry?

As small plants cradle in the soft mud,

I’m drenched in the drizzle of the rains,

Is it the stain on my feet, the warm Earth contains?


Following the moonlight, glimpsing a spark,

I stumble upon a warm house in the dark.

Welcomed by a gentleman, inside I go,

He tells me to sit beside the fireplace’s snug glow.

Is it the dye of the parchment being burnt so slow?


As he gazes deep into the soul that is mine,

Forming a strong connection, our eyes intertwine.

He brings me a velvety muffin so sweet,

Is it the tint of the cinnamon it greets?

A copper luster cup he bestows,

Is it the shine or the radiance it shows?


Inside my coffee’s sweet embrace,

Is it the toasty hazelnut’s swirling grace?

And I see his reflection dancing in this clear space. 

All the seven shades of brown, so earthy, so serene,

But why is it his eyes are the prettiest I’ve ever seen?

                                                                          -Siri Karra

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