Temporary art in the hills

It was an arrival of dawn when I happen to peep through my window pane,

I was caught up by this temporary art that the season gain,

Though far yet it was almost touching my fantasies from this side of curtain.

Bouncing like a bubble out of rainbow hue,

Progressing and falling high and slow like a slide with an idea entirely new,

That bridge leading me in some shades of yellow white green and blue.

Illusioned by this chilly work of art,

Which seems like a thread weaved Or a knitted woolen Or a reflective painting on a paper crush,

The floating cloud enveloping with its

butter-milk look like brimming out of clay pot in  rush.

Watching them I bet would drive you to the best experiences like painting holds to brush.

The crusts n troughs were making this valley complete,

Rising above the plains and from the perfection of being neet,

Inspired I started digging hard those collective amounts which were deep to repeat.

I was drawn by the Reindeers in a sleigh of being total thoughtless,

Riding me to heaven and sharing my happiness.

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