Little Girl.

Little Girl,
Realise.
There is no home for you.
There will be no lighthouses for you.
You gender would not let you have one.

Society likes you
Enslaved. Domesticated.
That inner fire estinguished.
Those dreams trampled on.

The fantasy of knight in the shining armour,
Is not that great after all.
He saves you from the crowd.
But enslaves you after all.

You are your own home.
Your own light house.
Your own knight.
Shine bright.

The Hills and The Plains

You stir me to instil life in emotions
I thought were long dead
Resting in peace
To never move me

The unbound love
And the age of innocence
The peace of simply being
The magic in the sunlit corridors

Roll it on hon. We have only today.
With the careless clouds you smoke away,
I am ceaselessly whirled into your spell,
Tracing sunbeams filtering your eyelashes.

When you will be away in the hills,
Know your imprints remain fresh.
The glow fades away,
But heart stays young.

In the cold nights of plains,
When chilly breezes will blow,
And I traverse rocky roads alone,
My feet will miss your warmth.
But the heart will know best.