Freedom Poem by Pritam Bhowmick

All crave for but few get,
It's a mirage merciless,
Boundless fields to be conquered, yet
The hurdle is too mighty to transgress.

Time's compass does prey on me,
Its pricking abuse I don't miss a bit,
The shriveled branch of a lonely tree,
None's there to water it.

Break out I must from the desolate grasp,
Just waiting for an axe to strike,
The promise to return emits as I gasp,
In a form you may not dislike.

Though times reborn I will say without guile,
You were meant to spread the smile.