aniket22
Favoured Frenzy
At break of dawn when dreams still cling,
And hush of night begins to wing,
A silver hush on leaves is cast—
The breath of morning, soft and fast.
No trumpet call, no thunder’s might,
Just gentle tears from fading night.
Each blade of grass, a mirrored hue,
Crowned by the grace of fleeting dew.
It lingers not, yet leaves its trace,
A quiet kiss, a cool embrace.
So small, so still—yet vast in feel,
A secret only dawns reveal.
It clings to petals, bright and shy,
Reflecting slivers of the sky,
As if the stars had wept and fled,
And left their shimmer here instead.
But sun will rise, and dew will fade,
Retreating into light and shade.
Ephemeral, yet pure and true—
The silent soul of morning’s blue.
And hush of night begins to wing,
A silver hush on leaves is cast—
The breath of morning, soft and fast.
No trumpet call, no thunder’s might,
Just gentle tears from fading night.
Each blade of grass, a mirrored hue,
Crowned by the grace of fleeting dew.
It lingers not, yet leaves its trace,
A quiet kiss, a cool embrace.
So small, so still—yet vast in feel,
A secret only dawns reveal.
It clings to petals, bright and shy,
Reflecting slivers of the sky,
As if the stars had wept and fled,
And left their shimmer here instead.
But sun will rise, and dew will fade,
Retreating into light and shade.
Ephemeral, yet pure and true—
The silent soul of morning’s blue.
