Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Red windmills,
Claustrophobic skies
Reporting from some despot nadir
I hear you...I hear you hard...
Pitter-patter of baby feet
Growing into the clicking heels
And then the suffusing blush...
Oh,the plush tail will wag some day
The rainbows will clear,
I will try to remain estranged...
The war will soon come to a cease,
Everybody waddles back home
After the fight to save the dream,
But the dream will twist and bend,
And push me another way...

But the lane my room overlooks
Whispers my name...
Follow its trail,
I will be your stranger till the end.

And I will wait,

For you, till the world is safe...
Pray the toothache and heartache to rest,

Fly back,little thing...
Fly away.

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