Sitting at the window side, I saw a canvas of blue turning to pink. Was it blushing or was it the weal of five elements of nature? And was the blue washed by excess of water that I put or due to more pink that I give. Where is that blue lost that holds my other blues of piles of files at elation? Is that canvas lost or is it no more? POV: the canvas where I painted my sky pink, once in childhood. But I lost the blue(tear) that wasn't blue(sadness) it was the innocent like water. P. S : that evening sky bedew'd my memories. Happy children's day to all. Though, I have not remained a child, I have one inside me that will never die or I will never let it to.
