By Susmita Chatterjee Alias Aloakash
They tried to put her to sleep
She anchored her Self unto a dream deep
They tried to molest her vintage
She plucked off her vistas, and sowed them in ripeness of age.
They tried to lock her flight
She washed her feathers, and wore flowers bright.
They tried to name her Dark
She tore her eyelashes black, and sang the song of her bark.
Do you think she is sleeping?
Yes, just as she does in her brimming.
“She is sleeping”, you said again
Her lips parted, she smiles no bargain.
By Susmita Chatterjee Alias Aloakash
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