To a migrating bird
Oh! migrating bird,
In this branch
Thy hours are limited.
Far from thy nesting place,
It is a sojourn
In search of springs and copse.
Across the plains,
And into the windy dales,
It is a long flight.
And here and there,
Where the streams meet and depart,
A few nights are spent.
And thee leave the taverns,
Thy acquaintances, sprawling meadows,
To meet thy destiny yonder hills.
Here, among the bush and alcove,
We gather a few feathers,
Casting a glance unto the trail of thy flight.
Here, within passing life and dream,
We gather a few pebbles to feel the lost horizons.
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This is the sum and substance of our acquaintances too. In our office we get new acquaintances and they leave us one day on account of a transfer or we leave them on our retirement and so forth. Our life is a sojourn for that matter. We will be leaving our native haunts. We will be leaving our cities. We will be leaving our circle of friends. The story thus continues.......
poem by Ravi Panamanna
Added by Poetry Lover
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