Every morning
Sun unfolds for me
The spectrum of its seven shades
The vibgyor, though, shows up in the south
Not in the west.
The day passes by and the sun sets
The rainbow pops up in the south
Not in the east.
Sunrays do not trickle always
Routinely down a vaporous screen
The magic cobweb of colors
Still looms in my vision
Like reality of a tangible dream.
The sun rises up high in the horizon
The rays become scorching and bright
The transient rest of the seven hues
Vanishes into the permanent blue
The blue deepens and fills the entire sky
I keep on staring into the canopy
All the day and all through the night
The wonders of looking never fading for me.
