by Subhadeep Bandyopadhyay
(Kolkata, India)
It came in to my lap from the rays of the morning sun,
And it grew with wings spread in cage,
Awaiting for the freedom which ultimately never came,
Because life in itself is a great game,
I understood its hunger and its demand for love,
And its wish to venture the skies,
It was my bird which knew no vice,
And it is no more today by virtue of fate,
Because death is such a cruel bet,
For you can live as long as the counted time,
And freedom for some is only a day dream and not a nursery rhyme!