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My Beautiful Prison

My beautiful Prison
- Ishan Sharma
The leaves separated from their mother tree
The yellowish color, oh! The birds so free
When the mist covered the rising sun
The sky got its crimson
The wind was blowing throughout the way
Through the money plants and beside the graves
My feeling flowed down into the air
The bale I collected, I started to stair
This is the masterpieces and this is the reason
That why I am lost in my Beautiful Prison

The cold breeze bluing in the sky
The birds flying up so high
The only lamp in the mist, let the rainbows fall I insist
The running horses, the feeling reinforces
The hide and seek, sitting in a cluster of teaks
The growing petals, the hot tea in the kettle
This is all designed by a sacred being
Oh! The clouds so pure, a natural feeling
I am in this thing, enclosed in a prism
And I love to get lost in my Beautiful prison

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