Wind keeps changing.

Stars often lie.

Can I trust this storm

to leave behind a rainbow?

Pretty poison blooms.

Its pollen carried in the deceptive breeze.

Can I trust this sapling 

to bear the elixir of life?

The tides keep changing.

The constellations rearrange.

Can I trust this compass

to set the right course?

All fireflies burnt alive.

The smoke suffocates the lungs.

Can I trust this candle

to illuminate the way out?

Sunflowers grow black.

The hour glass crumbled.

Can I trust this twilight

to be approaching dawn?

Shadows move alone.

Mirrors spy on all.

Can I trust this picture

to be free from deception?

Words can hurt.

Ink often bleeds.

Can I trust this script

to stage a different play?

By Shivpriya Kumari

From: India

Website: https://recitingmydreams.wordpress.com/

Instagram: word_in_disguise