Just like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her.
Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
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And did the sun really cleave In half by the cloud? And we know that's not possible, But nonetheless it seems so, The sun divided into neat halves, Like the sunny side up of, An omelette on the plate There's something to learn As I say always around, And nature provides opportunities, To learn and grow abound. To one person you may appear broken, Some may see you as ripped, In the mirror sometimes you see, Yourself divided in half, By the pull of dilemma, Or by the events that broke you, Or did it? You can't be broken, Just like the sun. The broken is just a feeling, The cleaving is just an illusion. You don't need to be 'fixed' Because nothing can pull you apart, In parts, just like the mighty sun The clouds have just eclipsed you, Life is glorious behind those, Wait a moment and this illusion, Will vanish with the new dawn Of newer aspirations and newer hopes
