Sunday, 21 July 2013

Being Mature

On that bus
where I am riding
beneath my veil of sparkling glee
grief is hiding.
With all coercion
I had to choke my emotions.
Hearing that loud cry,
to my heart ,begged I
not to let pour
the sentiments of yours.

That infant is so free
she could let the world see
her wail,wrath and laughter.
She is her own master.

Trying to divert my mind
as I looked out of the window,
amidst the black clouds I find,
the caged tears of my eyes
are eloping from the black skies.

Unbounded by any chains,
the nature is showering rains.
That infant is too showcasing her pains.
To their freedom I am envious.
But to the world
my agonies' seizure
is the only definition of
"Being Mature".
                           -Tanushree Dutta

1 comment:

  1. Is this a migratory birds song-loosing that immaturity too fast --