Despair, do we? Not today

After deleting and reinvoking,
this arises out of the blankness of this e-page:

A multi-hued darkness,
blobs of colour pass by pretentiously
that is the code we all live by,
one way or the other,
there's no need to deny,
(this rhyming goes on too fast,
needs to be slowed with a blind dart);
it begins again,tripping over the page
while unpopular fingers try to stop them in vain;
non-sense rhyme, of meaningful words,
ideas that play all night long,
(only in the night, when all is mystified)
in the dark, no one sees the blinding white light
from the moonbeams coming through the green apple tree
in which lies the scent of black grapes;
that tiny scar is ample proof
of knee scrapes that were flaunted as trophies of war.
Words change their meanings now,
an apple is not a fruit with a shiny red skin–
it means something unreachable;
A grape is not what it was–
it is a transformative elixir;
Tears begin as childhood returns
with all its aches

Who would want to go back to those fruit cakes 
chocolate cookies, and plucked mangoes?
those lemonades after play,
cribbing about homework undone?

There's always more to be said
but there is no need;
a turbulent wind has changed everything
And yet, these fragments remain

© Geetakshi Arora, April 24, 2013