The Nest

How can you clean up my days?
Which I have painted with colours of your dreams?
If you want a fruit of my being, take away
But don’t cut off a tree
Which has served sweetness to many
If you will come back
I might be there as a nest…
Lonely, deserted, yearning
And few feathers you left…

By Nisarg Ahir : 24.6.2011

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