clouds hull over sky
the canary sits on a branch beside
choosing the melody of yearning under the sky
neither far nor near
no horizons to rely
the sea seems calm
the seagulls flying high
the young on cliff
dazed by choices of time
whether to plunge or hold back for sometime
the morning seems bright
the lark should be on time
yet the shiver keeps it back
what shall it choose this time
these birds prey upon duty
running in cycle of life
wonder what dwells
A call of duty
or stop at blanket of rhyme
Wonder to take the instructions
or turn a blind eye
sincere since long
never a rebel born inside
a bloom
struggling to open as flower upon branches high
wonder will the rebel hurt
was always a sheep of a kind
is it okay to be a black sheep sometime?