Simplicity is tempting, isn't it?
A 5-year old's sparkling eyes reflecting a trail of immature fantasies.
The embrace of the afternoon sky oranging into awaited coffee-evenings and eventually wearing the cloak of darkness, draping the world in tranquility.
The softness in a mother's hand kissing an aching forehead.
The swiftness in the morning air caressing the jawline and slipping down the neck.
The way glistening dew drips down the greenery and the way a trunk supports an old spine from sinking.
The way two sparrows kiss away a day's long flight and the way a nightingale sings of love to all the lovers in disguise.
Be it in the peaceful voice of a singer or in the bleeding pen of a writer. Be it in the art portrayed on a canvas or the muse of a lost poet.
Be it in the smile of a young girl or in the teenage infatuation. Be it in the tantrums of a child or the simplest of all, an infant's cry.
Simplicity has always been adored.
But tonight, as I watch the stars gazing at me, the ivory of the moonlight questioning me, all I think about is complications.
All I think about is US.
And I realise,
Even complications are beautiful, aren't they?
Good luck