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.
Sonali Dalal Photography 
The blue, the sky, a perfect metaphor for Spirit, so close to freedom we live trapped by our own desires, yet longing in prayer for freedom….
So truly said.
So you are a poet also 🙂
Trying to be :). I have posted few on this blog.
..and I guess if not more you are equally good with words 🙂
Thanks for the compliment,Hitesh. 🙂
You are welcome 🙂
These are lovely words, Sonali, very touching! Adrian
Thanks Adrian. One of my colleagues lives in congested city area , where houses are chock-a-block. He is not able to see sky from any corner of his house. Being an artist, he misses it the most. This is based on his feelings.
You’ve reflected his feelings very well, very sensitively. A
Thanks Adrian.