Poem on the word “Below”

I’ll write a poem today. Because, I am not very good at it.

Buy Me a Cloud

Below the mighty whites
Under the shiny bright

Dove, you see me smile
And we don’t know why
Why do we see us cry
Why do we see us fly

All there is, is to love
The sight of the blurry dove

The blurry dove sings me shy
Even now we know why
Our land worries it will die
And we worry will we survive

All there is, is to love
The sight of the blurry dove

Dove, you see me now
And you know no why
Why do we see us cry
Why don’t we just go and fly

I used to write poems in my school. There’s so much I need to work on, and yet these poems I write always bring a sense of joy. Maybe the joy comes from the first time I did it. Because, I don’t think I’ll ever be or even want to be good at this.

Staying at home seems to get tiring only at rare times where the feeling lasts for hardly a few seconds. Because this experience is of it’s first kind to me, and I might just have ways from before. Before, I too have stayed at home for long times not wanting to go outside. It’s not the kind of life I’d want to live or even motivate. But, if it matters to bring down the rhythm of this crisis – we all need to do it.

Clouds, like all the times, were even more amazing to watch today. I made a video, which you can find here.

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