There's always a different way to view the world!

PERCEPTIONS

Running from my hall

to room, yesterday,

beating my brain out to find

my book,

I observed the scars

on my hands,

dry skin

of winter, as a tinder

And looked at a smile

on the mirror,

sweet, benign, lively it was

But a diffident, querulous visage,

Like that of a touch-me-not flower

with

an ocean of desire and

a boom of doubt

And a kaleidoscope,

resting against the wooden

chair, I picked it up and

shook,

multiple patterns formed,

as a rainbow

and felt that flash of remorse

I held my book and

ran away to my study table

with serenity, grinning from ear to ear...