About the withering flowers in my lawn,
luminous sun in the dawn.
How rain touches the ground,
Shimmering like shooting stars.
Humans surviving with all the blemishes,
vigilance for every ache they face.
Where would be moon without daylight,
Why I always stumble upon nights.
Why connections last for a week or two,
People left on the realm are few.
Uncertain about tenderness,
realizing fascination is a myth.
About how I sense and get squeamish.
I do care about the Aspects,
that need to be cared about.