Silent Breeze

The music played by the cuckoo birds,

The sweet smell of wet mud,

That silent breeze in an autumn night,

Relieves every nerve of a tired mind.

The music now replaced by the cacophony of city life,

The smell's that of a gutter overflow with filth,

And there is no breeze to sooth the soul within.

The cities are dead, the countryside gray,

and our minds swayed away,

swayed away in search of dreams,

dreams that give us nothing,

nothing except more rusty cities and more jungles made of concrete.

I think of a day when my mind will be free,

Free to experience joy and happiness,

Joy of being  idle without any dreams,

Happiness of being near truly to myself,

And once again feeling the Silent Breeze.........

Written by: Akhouri Vishal Sinha

creative corner/list of articles/poems/