Poem 18

      

                                   An Immortal Tie 

Flying high, O, flying high

With broken wings

An immortal bird, with a little sigh

In lonesome howling winds.

 

Pittering pattering sound of raindrops,

With a quite thunder bound

Covered, O, covered all around

What an imagery do I found!

 

To that flying bird imprecise,

Finding it's home, like birds of paradise

I advice thee not to fear

For whose home; nature, is here.

 

I don't fear, endless time,

For thee I'm here standing by

With each losted broken souls

Finding their way back to home.

...

                                             - Ishika Jain