The camp wore a somber look
As the dark clouds of sorrow shrouded it.
The waft carried the stench of smoke,
Drenched in metal, blood and flesh.
As the smoke settled, the boxes came alive,
Wrapped in tri colour
The uniform neatly pressed,
With the corners sharp on touch.
Few books and certificates,
And photographs of family and God,
Arranged carefully in the metallic trunk,
With his name inscribed in white,
Brought tears to his parents eyes,
Even though their...
Chirping as usual,
In their own little world,
These two legged birdies
Never had a moment that was dull.
A nest so beautiful,
Was secure admist the mighty rocks,
On the foothills
Of the snowclad Himalayas.
There lay in the cozy nest