Sparrows
I often
wonder how
We
cannot find sparrows anymore;
Those
feathers in brown, black and white
Scurrying in groups,
Bringing life to
the sultriest of summers
Through flights of
freedom
In the afternoon
suns of
Golden-sepia yesterdays
Perhaps, they too
have flown away
Like lost
childhood days
Unable to return
From the event-horizon
of time
Perhaps they too
have gone far
Like long, lost
friends
Faded away with musty
postcards
And old telephone
numbers
Sometimes though,
Comes floating a little
feather
In the sunset colours
of a greying day
A feather in a
cirrus cloud,
Drifting away,
Asking us to leave
behind
The weariness of our
age,
Of lost time and faded
memories
Reminding us to
not forget -
Perhaps there is a
small flock,
Of tiny sparrows
from yesterday
Still persisting against
all odds
Just like a tiny
bit of us
Still spry, free, awaiting
Drifting away like
a light feather
In the heaviest
air of jaded days…
20th
June, 2025
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