Purple Drops




Night, candles, and a glimpse of your presence,
The imperceptible scent in zest within,
Below the drops that slip by my skin,
And fall into nothingness!

Your sight with freshness, unblemished!
Is all that makes those falling drops purple,
And fills hues into murky patterns etched,
With a whiff so fresh and effervescent!

Your face harks back me of those lilies,
Purple, flowering with newness,
Like that of distances long and free,
With rain drops slipping behind!

Your shades through the blithe candle light,
Crafting artistic patterns of darkness on me,
Which engraves in purple, an abstract art,
Deep within my solitary heart!


Abhinandan is a part-time media and journalism professional and a passionate victim of wanderlust. Despite all his attempts to conquer the eclectic tastes of diverse cuisines, scenic views of deep valleys and panoramic mountains, he is still uncertain about his interests. He is a food lover, compulsive traveler, an enthusiastic writer, aspiring entrepreneur, ingenious web developer, and a mathematics-savvy guy. To make up for the credence of eternal optimism, he is skilfully blessed with boundless energy and an inborn penchant for new experiences.



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