Voicemail 


​On shore, I stood,
Gazing at the sky-

Blue of all shades.
Clouds of all patterns.
Light from only Sun,
Jumping and dancing
Like a rigid beauty,
Making all –
Patterns and shades
Equally worthless
Of concealment.

Infinite sea shouldered
Innumerous loveliness – Sky;
While sun hovered
As calm fish out of sea.

Home, I returned.
To find salty voicemail,
Of the waves and shore,
They left at my limbs,
For ceasing to find their grace.

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