UNSUNG AND UNHEARD…

She is a hopeless star in the limpid trance of a kindled fire.

She is a flaming dewdrop burning in the shadow of an untameable desire.

She is liquid luck spilt on the ground by treason,

And she is a budded flower waiting for the inevitable change of season.

She is the contumacious first flight of a bird,

And she is the story of a person, unsung and unheard.

—–Ridhima Dutt

Author: ridhimadutt

Bibliophile. Librocubicularist. Wanderlust.

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