Circles by Sayani Mukherjee

3 Aug

Time and again I come upon the seashore

And I spread my palette on the waves

The crimson blue topples with the margins

Creating a circle of circles

Where I reside with my feet conjoined

And the waves rush up and up

Upon the margin of my blues and greens

From far away the Hawks soar 

with a squeaky quick over the rounds

My circle is now a dot

And I gasp for more blues

In my tabula rasa of streamed veils.