My Words..

 Those words,
 Already seemed stale, fetid,
 Begging for a release.
 Trapped inside the numerous folds
 Of the brain,
 They craved for fresh air;
 To be heard,
 Understood,
 Caressed by lips,
 Loved by hearts,
 Other than mine.
  
 So I set them free,
 To blow in the wind,
 Floating with the breeze,
 Dangling on strings
 Outside windows
 And sometimes
 Nestling in midst of leafy boughs 
 Or soaring
 On a kite’s back.

 My words,
 I set them free
 In hope, perhaps,
 They can find you. 

Copyright @ Goutam Dutta

What do you see # 65- January 18 2021