Wednesday, September 2, 2009

She Misses....

Standing often, beautifully she sings,
Sonic, rhythmic like flapping wings;
Sitting lonely, sometimes she sobs,
Painful, pitiful, unseen from mobs;

Zigzag lights hitting her eyes and fly,
Looting, plundering her visionary sigh;
Still she sings among the harsh noise,
Hiding, sliding her melancholy voice;

Green bangles and some are red,
Trodden, stolen from her hands of wed;
She watches them rolling her hands,
With lub-dub heart on shaking lands;

Bounded in an area-she swirls around,
Making, waking her childhood sound;
The toys are lost and the dolls are killed,
With darkness, farness the future filled;

The song itself tells her story,
Suppressed, depressed without any glory;
Telling about her that she misses her eyes,
Her mission, vision-one could see with sighs;

In the song, one could see her fate lines,
The sound, wound of the falling coins;
In the rounded and filled bowl,
Girl like pearl, in sea, without soul.

No comments: