From fallen leaves; On the lively trees, The silent dreams, Before the raising sun, the chirping bird; Made my pleasant days On the fallen trees now, The fallen voice of, esteemed beauty, Of his golden voice, Is now washed away, He is broken for all the happenings; He can barely fly to make me happy, No one looks up to this bird anymore. He is just object because we all have better works, The people are too busy, And controlled by money, To care about the bird, They could not look down, To the broken, sad bird, We have no time to make him feel the warmth nor to sooth him, Things are vanishing away, Without the mesmerising voice, And while they are now happy, we can’t and not ignore, The bird there to die, On the lively trees.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI'am a passionate and dedicated to explore the glimpse of the nature. I love enjoy every single aspect of the nature at the same time keen and responsible individual addressing the most common and unfamiliar issues of environment. I do write on all the aspects that can interest me and others by covering all the unsual stuffs
ReplyDeleteI always love to explore the unexplored issues through my blog!