The Sparrow's Day(Poem)

Broke the pitcher made of clay,

The incarcerated air was finally out.

With the color of a setting sun ; it play,

And leave it , a trail of gout………….

The sound of cicadas ,

Makes my stomach growl….

As do I envy toddlers ;

Being fed cereals in a bowl.

The Kite swoops down intermittently,

Making my feeble heart skip a beat;

I presume it must be droll,

To the hyenas gulping down the carrion’s meat,

Or the ranger, who’s lately been a troll.

Just a sullen warrior with his broken sword,

all the whispers , grinding teeth & fused lobes,

spit, they do , on a cape gone to shreds.......

All the hostility, was to act as an goad,

arose he soon to an empty bed.

---------R.Ajay.Kumar