The Prisoner

The Prisoner

Bound by the shackles of misery and hate,
A lifetime of sorrow,
An endless wait,
He stroked his pepper beard,
Surrounded by the stone cold walls, he shivered,
He then moved tiptoe,
To a small dirt clad window,

Dawn beckoned,
A lone swallow flew by,
A dewdrop mocked a flower,
A touch of pink lit the morning sky,

Somwhere, in his memory,
Lurked a world where people roamed free,
Somewhere in a sleepy suburb,
Waiting for him—was She!

A desperate sigh,
A desperate cry,
Condemned to his own private hell,
He sank back into the darkness of the cell!

~ Anushree ~

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