Captive
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Run child run
beckons you the sun
the bowl of sky over the grass
are waiting with palette and brush.
Run child run
away from the popcorn fun
the deceitful idiot box
that so sadly chains you in locks.
Run child run
barefoot on the pearly dew
away from the virtual fun
to the loveliness waiting for you.
Run child run
far from the cyber fun
before the setting sun’s crimson hue
forever misses you.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş