JANITORS OF MY OPEN HEART
Who else will be wondering;
How have I taken
colour of my heart
in a flight to the skies
What is it about, that
in every wandering
I shed my autumn leaves
like an empty branches
Where are the janitors
of my open heart
The moment I bleed
Pinions of my flight take a woeful roost
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Enthralling and succinct.
So much thanks for the enthralling comment dear Sir Vijay Nair Ji.