The caged parrot
Who sees me as a
Crazy laundry lady
And the chained dog
Whose freedom we fancy
The bright orange butterfly
Whose name my little intelligence
Knows not, still alive
Stuck on the tar road,
Using its last breaths
Tugging for a flight of life
A little snail shell
Washed out from
Bunches of baby spinach
Brought from a bustling bazar
Whose wares and knacks
Put to shame
The glass and steel boring malls
And the starving dry puppies
Lost with no rescue, recluse,
Kindness or animal welfare
Whose eyes I cannot meet
Cuz I'm too busy to care.
And the water plants
Which almost die and live
In our unlived room.
And a friend who asked me
"Is there any hope"
This is about all of them -
They decorate the quiet corners
Of my day and make me better.
- Written on March 24, '25 in Dhamtari ✨️
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| Taken from Pinterest |
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