After they had clipped those wings,
It sat on the old, old tree.
The Night had no dwelling for it.
The Moon looked mercurial,
The Sky too detached
To be with it.
Where could it hide?
Tie its throat down.
Bury that small neck,
Put its husky voice out?
The scene broke its heart,
But, it remembered this
Had happened before...
Then the surrender to
Those soft, round eyes,
Yes, they'd
Weep for it today
As in the days of Yore...
7 comments:
sad and touching
it happened again!
@ Shah O' Blah- Thank You...
@ Alahomora- Hey Sohini! :P dnt know what else to write! glad you read my gibberish always! :)
come, come dr. dont b so modest:) sometimes you do baffle me.. i was only trying to find, (as usual) some inner meaning to ur poem...forgetting all about the Death of the Author theory :P
Hahahaha!
And dr.? :P
ha! take in both ways:P
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