The rising dawn in a silvery tone.
The early morn rising from a slumber,
The cool dainty rustling breeze,
Invite me,
To fly above.
The receding dusk in a golden hue,
The eve settling to a sombre mood,
The gentle tired whispering wind,
Beckon me ,
To fly above.
The shimmering moon alighting from the sky,
The night sinking into pitch darkness,
The silent sleepy whispering wind,
Call me ,
To fly above.
Wish to fly away from the crowd,
Long to run away from the fret,
Like to get away from the world,
Love so much,
To fly above.
Meenas Poems 