Like to fly away unnoticed,
Like to sink deep unobserved,
Like to pass away unaware,
Like to slip off unseen.
The likes might sound as oddities,
Yet they are my wishing realities,
Releasing an escapism amidst trivialities,
By embracing wholeheartedly the infinities.
It is a French Leave,
It is above the sleeve,
Nothing much to grieve
Very much dissimilar to a believe.
Meenas Poems 