I love the way she sees the trivials.
They see greys,
I see whites and their blacks;
she witnesses colours.
A simple cup of tea that's steaming,
in a milieu of cacophony of lives in rush,
a sun that's beaming and
the time that's fleeing.
They, in rush, chase the time,
I feel the sun's supremacy
and she smiles at translucence of steam,
the exchange of warmth between the cup and her palms
and the sip of mixes that buy the calm..
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