by Anukriti Ashok
A dream stolen from the slumberous eye,
a star falling from the enormous sky.
Petals segregated from the wilted blossom,
cruel winds shedding leaves of autumn.
A photograph deleted by impaired memory,
some pages torn from dusty sagas of history -
They hum the same tune as these plucked feathers
of a bird, left flightless in this gloomy weather.
A song of separation echoes their wounded heart,
yet the balmy hope precludes them from falling apart.
It heralds the arrival of an impending night,
when dreams and stars will be reborn,
and skies will be bright.
It promises to bring back days of spring’s lush,
that’ll make withered tress rejoice
and demure blossoms blush.
It is opening up a way for new memories,
adding a brand new flavour to old stories.
It is asking them to change their tune and let their tears dry,
because these plucked feathers will soon learn again,
how to fly.