longing…

 I can hear in his voice, a longing to see the sky. 

I can feel the itching in his fingers to touch the sky,

Enclosed as he is in four walls he so abhors.

Sitting near the window, stretching his neck out,

He tries to catch that elusive blue.

 

Oh to be like a kite, he wishes,

As gently swaying kite lands at his window.

Holding the kite, he weaves his dreams,

Of riding  its wings to sky he so misses.

 

Occasional birds make their way to his window sill. 

Part of the sky he welcomes them with huge smile.

He wishes he can talk with them.

Listening to stories of that mysterious Blue.

 

Something snaps,wearing his chappals,

He runs away in search of an open ground.

Blue vastness of its beauty, entices him out,

Beckons him close to feel it with his hands.

He wonders will it ripple or slip away from his hands,

Questions he can just frame.

 

Wanting to feel hug of that Blue vastness

He raises his hands,

As screams of joy leave him exhausted.

 

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