It was when,

The usual mountain rocks,

Skipped tiptoed and

Danced ballet in the sweetest

And most silent motion-

Pieces of delicate soil

Showering softly onto my feet.

Coming in romance with my toes.

Dawning before my eyes were

Not just some dry Earth

Rustling down a cliff,

But, they were now pieces

Of woven inspirations-

Unveiling beauty,

Sorrow, sadness and joy,

All at once!

From all sides,

Flooding my senses

With such fluid grace.

Forcing me to take a half breath,

And a smile.

Because,

In that very same moment-

I just knew!

I was seeing-

My first poem.