Asa

Red velvet softly bounces the faint rays of the sun,
Nestled in the crook, fluffy cushions strewn in tow,
Sharp leaves bursting out spilling a green glow,
A rustic floor lamp, golden rod, stands tall,
Yellow curtains, turning golden, flap and billow,
Faint makings of a terrace house beckons from beyond,
It feels strange to write about things prospective and happy,
Winter rolls around, the cold brings with it melancholy,
The tinge leaves me elated, reminding me that I’m happy.