This poem was born out of my pain for that lonely cuckoo who would give me company during morning 5 O'clock Pranayam(Meditation) on the roof-top.
Lonely cuckoo in urban jungle,
Singing songs of melancholy,
Missing its flock and their sonority,
For those days when morning air would reverberate with their melody.
It is a far cry now as urban honk fills the air,
Neither can it find its groove nor its mates to pair.
Still perched on the high rise, hoping for a real jungle,
Where it might dance with the clouds and sing with flair...