The crimson of the sun
Enamours me.
The warmth and the radiance
Beckon to my heart.
And I yearn to fly
A flight of freedom.

Before I know it
The ground beneath my feet
Is far behind.
Alas, in that flight of joy
I fly too close
To my object of charm.

And the warmth turns to heat.
The fiery sun
Now turns cruel and
Melts the wax beneath my wings.
I fall.

An end I should have expected.
You can’t fly too far
On borrowed wings.


Anshu, 16 May 2016

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