Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi


A Bird In the left: the heart..


The fist sized bird settled in a cage,
Chirping day and night happy and rage,
Fluttering the wings to the sight of the page,
Those have the gender and beauty gauge,
Looking for the right fruit to fulfill its shortage,
Protected between the cushion of water vintage,
The bird is safe and its throat not choked,
The chest is not held during the moment of laughter,
The steps are not checked during the time of leisure,
The shiny wings of it may glitter and waltz during the old age,
The bird is kept out of thorny nest of stressful spillage,
The bird is young, vibrant and profound,
Despite the decades of experience slap and haunt,
The bird is free of nostalgic sorrow and hallucinates,
It is nourished with pellets of love and calm.

Submitted: Friday, November 08, 2013
Edited: Monday, December 30, 2013

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