Quicksilver

Like tiny pearls in a box lined with green velvet

Like moonlight in the liquid form

Rained last night

To quench the world of its ugliness.

 

Like a wet dog on soft green grass

They lie there, quivering

Living their short life from midnight till dawn

When the sun will fly them away.

Witches put them in their magical potions

Fairies drink them as they drop down

Elves take them to make silver earrings

Unicorns use them to adorn their crown.

 

Millions of dewdrops lie on leaves

And blades of grass, and sleeping rocks,

On petals of flowers, delicate and soft

On metal poles, and barks of trees

Coming and going with the breeze.

 

Only the sensitive stop in their paths

To look into the shiny crystal-balls

And even then, they cannot see

What secrets of the future they hold.

 

As the golden sun rays kiss them, they

Create little rainbows for the world to see

A last beautiful sight before they die

Before the world plunges back into its deformity.

 

And then they fly, like silver birds

Upon the gilded wings of sunlight,

And the cock crows, not in welcome of the Sun

But bemoaning the departure of the dewdrops.

Image Courtesy: Wikimedia

 

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