Gold couldn’t lure us
We are literary beetles
We walk at will, making our own trail.
Destinations don’t hold us
We scatter words that shimmer
The sky is our canvas.
Our burrows are cavernous
We bury dreams in them
They reverberate ruefully.
We wait for wings
To excavate our aspirations
Of touching the horizon.
The path may be treacherous
Our feet may be feeble
Yet we walk undeterred
Impelled by each other’s whisper.
© Balroop Singh
Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #photoprompt Crown
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Emotional Shadows 