A colorful shape of a new morning,
In a playful awakening, welcoming me.
I am spinning the coin, hoping it will fall,
And assure me;
Inception is over.
A charming expression that comes around,
As a permanent fantasy of my world.
You took the center stage in my play,
While my search for explosion of sounds,
Pierced my heart,
Before I even wrote them down.
Beneath my fingers,
Is the feeling of an old envelope,
Decorated with crumbled leaves.
There they are leading me again,
In another decade of memory.
I attempted to capture the most define words,
But I spoke in colors,
Imagining your skin in different shades.
You are in a presence of my every poem,
As if you were writing them for me.
So, why do you always doubt?
Why do you always create misspoken?