Like a bohemian she moved to places
A nomad at heart
as a bird in sky
swirling the colourful skirt of aspirations
paints down every town red and and streaks of turquoise
hadn’t the cuckoo perched every branch
hiding from the limelight
beneath the vast azure she vanishes
as a star during daylight
what if the colours create a motif
of a saga in humble words
she runs behind the tall corridors
where sleeps since years a history epical…
do not dissect the words or rhyme
forget to decipher or analyze
her pastels sing
her trinkets dance
words paint
and voice charms
faraway the bohemian lives
away from the world in a realm of dreams
moving under thousand suns