At my not very small daysI asked clouds
why the hell you fly past
they responded tough and stoic
windy airs fled past
like a jealous love in hands
I stood silent
as if the stupid around
I leave my office
metro takes 39 minutes
the later the seconds the monotonous I feel
I try my car to find a change
traffic plays a truant
like the air I mentioned above
but the backdrop is not that Natural
I have acclimatized over the time
I hardly know
how much is left
It galvanise your feels around my environs
may be its empirical
impractical and nonsense has strived too hard to be day of the order
I struggle very moment
to fight this order
the clouds of my heart still fly past
with a damn care
I still strive to know
why I could not emulate them
probably
your presence is a theatrical ritual
to feel like clouds
source: shipra.v ( probably this is one of the tough thins I wrote so far)
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