Shriyandhaa's space

Not all stars shine at night, When they can shine brighter in day, Not all holes can be patched up, No, not if they're profound enough. Not all crumpled paper can be smoothened Not if the wrinkles sunk in too deep Not all horses are docile, Not if they're more adamant than mules. Not all skies are blue, If they can be pink or orange - a prettier hue, Not all clouds block the sun, Some clouds make silhouettes for fun. Not everyday does the moon shine bright, It can't spend all its time in spotlight Not all promises are kept, Definitely not all secrets are level and kempt, They tend to get woven into  Nasty little rumours. Not all rocks are the same shape They can be flat, chipped and weird-shaped, But all rocks have their place on earth. Not all waterbodies are still, There are always miniscule ripples Not always is everything the same  In the ever changing world that cannot be paused.

  A beautiful banana I'd saved for after lunch, With its pretty, vivid yellow hue, But now I find the banana's gone, And to replace it, a great blob of goo. With an aroma that reminds me of nothing but garbage That has not been taken out for a few days  My, did the odour make me gag, And my brain said the banana's day wasn't today. I decided to peel open the mushy, black blob To see if the inside is purer than the out But how very wrong I was, the inside was blacker, Than all black created by a single pout. And then I realised a fuzzy white growth  Repulsive mold growing on its outer cover  And the banana squished further and became banana mush  And that only made me want to belch further. With innumerable banana bugs annoying the decayed figure, I decided to spare the once gorgeous banana from trash But I thought to myself, "Is it good for the banana?" And the answer sped to my mind in a flash. The banana would rather help in composting  Rather than rottin...

The brick wall outside my balcony  With as many rifts as you can see With lumps of disparity, no grace displayed, The wall stands still, faded and frayed. The blue painted bright, once lively and pretty, Now a dull shade, waning away with pity, Blocking the sun's light off, making us feel duller, Can the brick wall become any gloomier? With no windows, a forlorn, paralyzed standstill, And I've no time to watch the wall so still, Never do we take a second to gawk At the motionless wall, its feet well locked. It looks like it would love company  Not that its neighbours are many, Apart from similiar balconies, And windows as stationary. But someday, the wall would have to go Would have to be broken down not so slow But only so that another wonderful wall Would replace the fallen one, sturdy and tall.