Don't shout.
Let me....
Let me bea little child
swinging on
a high branch
perched on
a swing made
of jungle wines
and wild flowers
with green mountains
and blue sky
dancing beneath
my wind-filled frock
The winds
blow on my face
and I close my eyes
and fear
the darkness
And fall asleep
and fall.....
Fall down
into the valley
There is no one
To hold me
Not even you
You are not
a God who
will stand with
out-stretched arms
I hear your angry voice
And hope
that I fall
And fly away
To a different world
Far, far away
Till your voice
fades into the air.
Poetry by Neelima
Read 783 times
Written on 2008-03-10 at 12:21
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