Running through the pages
found a lovely image
of a bird in a cage.
whose big eyes looked sad.
The bird seemed to be desolate with fear
as it had no freedom to relish and cheer
seemed to curl itself in the rear
The image brought tears.
Perhaps the bird was thinking
of its friends in the trees flying
hopping, pecking and singing
enjoying every minute of their life.
The joy of freedom is infinitive
The little bird held as a fugitive
in the cage would get a feed remunerative
but has lost the rejoice of being free.
With a heavy heart turned the pages
recollecting the freedom movement in stages.
wondering how did the fighters survived the outrage
Heaving a sigh threw the book in disgust.
Meenas Poems 