A sunny morn after a wild night busted with thunderstorms looks like the coy girl after a fierce skirmish she has had with her lover, a night before...and I see her like the old admirer, who could never quite paint his love coz the canvass I owned would be a little too small for her. She would breathe yet would not be in a position to spread her wings there.
On mornings like these, I see her wings spread - throwing a riot of colors on the canvass of her lover, Sky. I smile with a cheerful glee.I named it, the rainbow.