A Sonata Of Chirps
Tiny birds are chirping outside,
melodious tunes of the forgotten side.
But now they have flown away,
To somewhere that lies beyond the grey.
I hope they would come back, like they do every season, and
May they stay without giving a reason.
They sing a sonata.
Feels like the world has gotten light'r;
That all worries are gone and
Happiness is reborn
But what of a lover,
Whose love has got nobody above her?
A lover who got too drunk in sadness,
and mistook a parakeet for a raven.
Would he be affected,
By the cure inflicted,
by the melody of the chirpings, unexpected?
