Sunday, May 6, 2012

Day 127/366

The dancing meadows never called for me,
Nor did the pack of wolves,
To Nature I had turned my back,
When the corporate house took me in.

Breathing in pure air-conditioner breeze,
With no open windows close,
Relying on machines for everything,
To even lock the doors.

The smell of first rains stay forgotten,
In the dullest corner of my mind,
I wear a suit too perfectly crisp,
And try to fall in love with the grind.

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