Birds With Wings Clipped..

A Clock ticking on over time

Was the first reminder

To pack the bags again.

That indiscreet hoot of the cab

Made it even worser.

Time to be on the roads again,

Leaving two frail souls to fend for themselves

Taking only tiny fragments of memories.

Stricken kittens in closed rooms,

Each thoughts, wreak havoc in an

Already strung up guilt-ridden heart..

Memories, indeed strange they are

The events they tug on too

Are of no help either.

Like the birds with clipped wings,

They too dont fly away,

But limp around,

Only to come back to

Rip the heart again.

Arun M Sivakrishna