The wings of the morning flutter,
The faded twinkling stars mutter;
With a heavy sigh they descend,
For the orange ball to ascend.
The lazy wood wakes up from deep slumber;
To see the stream dazzles with dancing rays;
See there ! the leaves and branches sway.
The wandering voices travel with no cumber,
They tweet with equal share ,
Happy communication they dare,
Their dark abode is full of light ,
With pride they take flight.
Far away from my tiny window ,
I gaze at the woods and meadow;
They go far and wide –
With no baggage in hand and mind;
Enviously I looked at the fluttering souls;
Then I looked at the baggage-
Some on the floor , some in the dark corner of my mind.
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