where night meets day

Where are these blessings coming from?

Like vague caress of the doting father

Like water paintings melting into letters

Of a script not learned yet

Maybe a longing to have

A richly textured painting, long past

A subtly nuanced life

A cardiograph

Continually oscillating

From light to dark to light

Along the straight line;

From a dirt road to the highway

Where night meets day

The sun thaws colours

And paintings are lain bare

Where weeds and climbers grow rampantly


Written in response to — Weekly Prompt “Night meets Day” hosted by Eugenia.

Published by Smita

Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids and hails from northeastern India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures along with her kids trying new recipes or crafting. She describes herself as -- a soulmate, a life alighted on the earth catching the rhythm passing by her. A tinge of joy colours her world and lays its feet on the land where revellers are awaiting her to get into the groove.

6 thoughts on “where night meets day

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