Not the wildest, is her, nonchalance
A wisp, nowhere, near the, willful gust
Born out of, sun and, earth’s romance
This urchin bathes, in the bliss, of dust!
A fleeting fury’s, faint whisper
From dawn, to dusk, a pilgrim’s sigh
Who makes, a forlorn, flame flicker
When the, haunting night, moans a lullaby!
Whilst wandering, thru, wet wilderness
It steals, from soil, her petrichor
And strews, thru fall, this life’s largess
In modesty’s throes, strength’s metaphor!
With a silent faith, not a, shrill chutzpa
Thru gasps, of hope, fortitude sings
Yet when, no one hears, her last hurrah
Why Zephyr Flaunts Her Broken Wings!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra