Fool’s Paradise

fingers stretching,scratching the peppery head,
tangled dreams run befuddled in the tangled mass ,
the dirt in the grown nails on the stubby fingers,
they make a jagged line on the crease worn cheek,
creased face wrung dry from unfulfilled wishes,
bent back doubled with weight of overgrown dreams.
the mind is still running in a mirage,
swirling in its own hope, it keeps the spirits high,
not acknowledging the sickle beare,
standing close by winters gone and summers lost,
rains’ mustiness washed off
yet the fool’s paradise blossoms.
sickle bearer is lost to a fool’s dreams

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Vandana Singh

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all my works , old and new can be read on my page,vandana singh .i am a writer of children's books(pre teen age),a painter,medium of my work is oil on canvass. i have had three solo exhibitions.
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