Window of thoughts open
A li'l birdie sitting on sill
Voices names of
Distant hills and flowers
…
"You know ‘em"
Asked,  the moon
"Nope, they are my
Wishful dreams ,
I have treasured…"
 -"Forgotten in chores of surviving
my true companions
grains I collect and few twigs dry
nest I have , yet breath I lost by"
 
"Wish I  spread my  delicate feathers
Flutter and fly
 to the distant crimson horizon
Sunsets , rivers, clouds I shall kiss
abide the trail and return
in minutes…"
 
The birdie sang,
"for another dawn ,
 for another morn
I shall sing melodies
of hope ,I reckon"

-Soumya

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