This game of words
Has conjured
Images of a kite
Flying up high in the sky
A saga of its flight
What do they mean
Why do they mean
The voices inside scream
One end is tied up to the wheel
And one is free to dream
Of heights and breeze
And calm blue seas
Somersaults in the air
It soars up high, ecstatic cry
A game of solitaire!
What if the wheel just loosens it?
And lets it drift away!
the sky of lead above the world
will just not let it sway
and when i take a walk out there
i’ll find it stuck in a branch
of a willow standing
as witness
to its avalanche
Jaded, faded
tattered
torn
rustling in the storm
...ghazal..4th feb 2012..10.50 am
No comments:
Post a Comment