In passing

Sound is of passion, as drums that beat briefly
For musical wedding at night, not morning yet.
A certain tablet waits in the wings,without light.
Two pups from nowhere ,balk at  dark of no mum.
Morning is in the waiting ,its birds still waking.

The tablet is waiting for its wings, from  balcony
Under the proposed tiny flowers,now just an idea.
These will appear in later seasons, only hibiscus
In the brewing in the trees's minds now, on pot.

All was said in parenthesis, in  closed whiskers.
I now say it ,in main agenda, of a life being lived
In its main focus, its music a continuation raga
A fusion of soft raga-jazz, as its strange words
Come out in sweet music, in  colors of the night.
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