Poem for the Mellow

Years and years the swallow flies,

Fearful of when freedom dies.

Flapping its wings in the horizon,

Admiring the majesty of its kingdom.

Relishing the fruits of liberty,

Devoid of responsibility.

Convincing himself this course being right,

The glorious path to the city of lights.

What he frequently denies,

Desperately suppressing his sighs-

The mere fact of truth,

The mere emotion he deems uncouth,

The mere wish to be soothed.

By the river, he and she,

Who are meant to be,

Kissing in the breeze.

Yet life is cruel,

Where unpredictability rules.

This wish, he knows, will never materialise,

That he will ever be so far from paradise.

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