Land is vast, Barren and blast, Vegetation is sparce, All brown and drast. Limbs are at-ease, Soul lacks in the crass. A draught of air, Descends from top downward, The cameras roll, To see all that is unheard. A piece of sky, A mouthful of sky, Those fluttering wings, White ones at that, Cutting through the horizon, Witnessing the blue at spate. The eyes twinkle, The soul rejuvinates, Crass is dead, Man is the 'head'. Restored back is the color, For you, for me, for everyone, From the sky, A mouthful of sky.
A short view above, is enough to rejuvenate oneself. So true. Quite happy to read this at least now PritiGP. Thanks. -rgs
