wrinkled patches of time
i feel the smooth gloss
and the wrinkles feel gone
yet when one scratches
the finger sulks
finger folds
its been long days
as have been days of longings
and then the next day
was the longest
as the horizon of longing
lies behind
stillness is worn by us in the mirror
but chaos is the way to so
after we meet peace
the tendrils of fracas
climb back to these fingers
from those dusty patches
and desires that lay at newer horizons
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