In Each Light

The dusk 

remembers 

the day when it does not see

 Its morning

in nights 

Like eyes 

lt sulks 

It does not see what it wants 

hides when it wants 

it leaves a track of dreams 

That does not come to life 

writing onto a raining day

 it becomes muddled 

even then

the richness does not die 

it breathes like a lemon 

fragrant

such 

on a gentle light.

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