By Kayin Borang
The stillness of the lake, with millions of starlit eyes,
Heavenly golden orbs mirrored on the silvery coat.
In the nightly vacancy, as my buzzing thought dies,
And placid the chamber falls into, like the clouds afloat,
High over the flickering stars and the crescent moon,
Fluttering as the breeze drifts upon the limpid body,
And inert as away it goes... with parted golds strewn
Across every corner, lightening in hues of glee.
By Kayin Borang
Good
Monumental
Good one