The Windmill

Arms turning into a windmill

Around my body with intent.

Fingers plying their mistral toil

in an indulgence of a moment.


Through the ambiance, we ramble

With a gesture of leisure in the air

it gave love a chance to scramble

And hastily, open the gate of fear.


Heartbeat sobs, sighs, and murmur,

We share anxieties of night and day.

And the bloom that fades like a flower

Stay with the moon in the happy hour.


Wipe away the tears from your face

Make them flee away from sight,

And overflow into flowering silence

Rest and repose to know the respite.


Windmill hues stay with the moon

Time belongs to no country,

Play the tune until the golden dawn

moves its powers within proximity.

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