A Layer of Dew

a thing of bliss is always lovely
as and when it soothes out cuddly.

unto the layers gone afar
and the streams left to us -ajar

so every now and then
let’s hearken not nor pretend.

upon our awakes, are we wailing
with a desire to thrust out our ailing

but at times, grief is somehow brief
like a layer of dew, short-lived.

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