Feathered wings fairies



 Visible were  the moments, sitting near the wodden tables

wide across the horizon's of NAAC room

chambers of serious discussions and digressions

silent witness of the traumatic symphonies.

Looking back to that room through the narrow eye of existence

where I found my wings feathered with hues of carbuncle

the moments of epiphany played with

lasting rhythms of wired paces.

we conversed eloquently in those spaces

the tears, laugh, even the silence were

pregnant with  multitudes of meanings

there the souls get converted to

fairies of magical worlds

transparent , but tilt with 

unknown emotions of known feelings.



 

  

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