Emancipation
The spring hast stretched its wings
on the outskirts of autumnal equinox,
On the road that ends
with no end over the Mist-laden butting,
The flowers swaying with soggy air harbour no fragrant canard,
No bird overfillsit’s domicile with pain unuttered,
Smooth is the way with nothing to come and go,
People in their do-nothing humour favour
homely affair deeply with sacerdotal heart
with tame, tenable mind.
Life with glorious fruition onto my sill,
With stretched arms to foster all that my mind dreamed.
Useless doth it seem as stars beyond winking on my tired Couch.
Leave a Reply