Someday little light gets into rooms
measure the buoyancy
The soft voice of the wind wipes the dust
of unforgivable desert inside,
Those ripped out notes, keep it tuned
listening to the walls braces whine,
Morning rays give birth to freedom and hope
meet outline of the dusk’s glow,
Why ever people want to go move out?
windows chase butterflies in tow
Aging unsettles into streams of memoir
ebbs and flows, unravels the pristine landscape.
©gopallahiri
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