Treasure Island

Amann Aroraa

(28 March 1993 / New Delhi)

The Window Seat

Carefree wind strikes my head.
My hair have lost their address.
Its coolness kisses my willing cheeks.
My ears listen what it speaks.

The world is stationary inside.
Routine voices gloomily recite,
A song with no rhythm no rhyme.
An escape to music, the window seat.

Traveling through Earth less traveled.
Visiting places still to be unravelled.
Vestal beauty of varying soils.
My eyes rejuvenate the Nature's bless.

An eyesore, the everyday colors.
Arranged in set patterns.
Binding the horizon for my wild eyes.
A bridge to beauty, the window seat.

Submitted: Sunday, March 31, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The Window Seat is the link to the world we want to be in.

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