In quiet rooms where daylights fade,
my folded thoughts in corners stayed;
but then a whisper stirs the air,
and gently, they begin to flare.
Like paper wings, they rise and glide,
unfurling secrets kept inside;
each crease undone, each shadow caught,
reveals the shape of every thought.
They open slow in silent blooms,
spilling color through the gloom;
a timid spark, a sudden gleam,
a truth long tangled in a dream.
And as they blossom, soft and bright,
they teach my heart a newer sight—
for every thought that once seemed small
unfolds to show, it knew it all.
©®Madhumita
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