THE VOICE



A parched land, sans a drop of rain,
in all its glory of its inhabitants pain,
nestled in a corner so far away,
that the bird's voice had its sway.

 Ahoy! Then came the soothing voice,
blended with the essense of spice,
a melody so pure and sweet,
that the soul needed no cure and greet.

 Alas! Came the end, a defining moment,
a voice that was cut in a short frequent,
with a pledge, promising to be back,
untill the land would turn barren and crack?

 -Sharath J Bhushi

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