Sometimes I walk towards the bridge,
that roads over the waters,
that looks purple whenever I look from the window pane,
but that looks more blue whenever I walk towards.
And then it dresses white when I look
deep into it watching the dancing view of my face behind the trees.
Then when I touch the mysterious water,
it turns to a colourless attire.
Each time making me no difference than the first,
the things a far blossom than the withered hands nearer…
✍️Rwrites