A Pretty Day A Pretty day started with colours and sound, Pretty people around – they flirt, love bound; Traveller of the blues, They don’t discern pain; Sometimes even love is in chain, The rainbow overshadowed by rain.
Many lost what they gained, Still a pretty day will never know one’s pain; Sky bewildered by the floating cloud, Bewitched and mesmerised by the crowd, In this street of fancy dreams; The sky has now turned pink.
Many eyes now do blink, For some heavenly flinch; With the snowy mountains behind, A pretty day is always divine, I see hunters in the trail; Multifaceted, complex and beautiful – this nature’s braille.
