My Mother

The room bursts with blue from the wall,
the prints of flowers fluttered in the wind
like dancers under the open sky.

The gaze on me from the years gone by,
stirring from catacombs memories that
explode with colours like dyes in the vats.

Breath that stays close to my neck
like a kiss of a lover, murmur of breeze
but mistiness blurs as cataract of the eye;

wipe the window with a piece of paper to see
life like spilled beads roll on marble floor –
glasses of colours, my kaleidoscope

that gathers shards of beautiful images:
my mother as her hair blows,
eyes reflect the blues of the wall, sky.  

Day 23
Poetic Asides – write an "only one in the world" poem 

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