Sriram Viswanathan

Music, Software, Privacy, Poetry and more...


Colours… they walk by…

On my field of hopes
A lustrous plane of waving notes

A slight brush of the hand
And a million thoughts rise from the sand

As I relive the moment that has passed many miles
The shadows, they tangle and the songs, they fumble

The horizon is an unknown that I wish was here and now
Which I could take in and breathe aloud...