She tried hard
Not to think of her blue heaven
Still painting with that very color
Thought to gift her house, a fistful of sky
To inhale at her leisure.
She borrowed from jasmines,
The selfless love to emblazon her walls
Not realising, jasmines live to die everyday.
Something was amiss
Yeah, she remembered.
Frantic searches for that corked bottle in every nook and corner
In which she stored the volatile crystals of life
Only to find the cork under her pillow

Afterall a house too wears its expression
Just like hers.