Poems and Poetry

Metamorphosis | A Poem by Ananya S. Guha

Your wayward paths
are leftovers of those
trickling down rains,
sent umbrella hunting
with father insisting
take two, there will be more
but water scarcity continued, in a town
which had clouds hovering every moment, threatening to burst skies
with a downpour scattering hills, trees and flowers, which had hardly bloomed. Azure skies of my dreams, how you could change colours with guile,
like the wily chameleon:
blue, black, grey, red
and my metamorphosis reaching the pinnacle of heights.

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