Flight of Imagination
My mind
A kite devoid of string
Is dozing like sky
In the embrace of clouds.
A blank curtain is lying
On fearless void
In the opposite window.
Feeling of a beautiful face
Is growing,
As a seedling sprouts
In the wet climate
I repeatedly peep inside
With a desire to find her
And come out bare-handed,
When I have to write
Some sensitive poems
On streaks of sentiments
Playing on those unseen faces.
And I have to talk
Something else also-
Like my age, capacity to love
And my bound hands
On the path of duty,
Those scare me,
Delude me and
Titillate me severely, too.
Time also,
Like rudderless boat,
Is floating far and far
Beyond my reach.
And knowing everything plainly
How unknown it seems
The mental kite of my poetry.
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