When all doors are locked
and my mind is blocked
The Morning air
feels my hair
One little cloud
Away from the crowd
in this weather
floats like a pink feather
from gigantic flamingo
And
my soul peeks through
the glass window
To find
The red rim of the Sun
pushing itself over the clouds
Just like a sweater,
my grandmother has spun
Sun shines on every one
Not leaving any one
Sun is on a strange purpose
Than all of us
I feel low on emotions
with my petty ambitions
I feel so small
with strivings so tall
in the grand presence
of the elemental forces
of the Nature that reinforces
my belief in the Balance
When all doors are locked
and my mind is blocked
The Morning air
feels my hair
One little cloud
Away from the crowd
in this weather
floats like a pink feather
from gigantic flamingo
And
my soul peeks through
the glass window
© Priya Jain
