The Oldman sits on the embankment
Under the neem tree to ask
The sparrows if they have any stories.
Of the winds or the oceans or
Of the skies or of the lands
The sparrow asks.
Of you feeble-hearted. Of your
Wings and the the flight.
Of your mates and children and
The nest. Says the old man.
It chirps and picks on the grains,
And talks of her songs composed
In vain. And the flights that didn't
Fetch her any grains.
Of the rains that assured no gains
And mates who betrayed her in
Games that were together to
Be played.
He brushes it's neck and grabs
After a deception saying,
Someone didn't learn from her
Last lesson.