The Death Of Peacocks


Dear Friends! In modest tones, I hereby speak
Of certain deaths of birds of vibrant hues.
A little while ago, I saw them fly
Discreetly out of cages which trapped them
In lives of bondage — free, to roam the sky.
The sun that burnt their magnificent plumes
Could NOT, in death, ensnare their cherished cries
Unspoken — felt by crows who, newly here,
Could see no tinge of freedom; on each bough
Now hung a noose for any erring crow.

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