Phases of you
It’s a story of a month-long bridal,
Seated comfortably in the clouds cradle
But sometimes peep outside your window
In cloudless full
And in no time white and mystic turns
Into infinite gloom
Slowly it creeps in stealing the show
With its perfectly crescent bow
After lingering there for a while
It grew into a half-eaten pie
Even since mankind happened it depicts the same story
Yet it never complained of its monotony.
These are the phases of the moon
Or I say the phases of you.
Sometimes blooming
And somedays are gloomy
Sometimes with a perfect crescent smile
And sometimes half-heartedly handling the other half of the broken pile.
Swheta Singh
She loves to write and create a world of imagination. I am a daydreamer with a lot of cranny tragedies.
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