Leaning on a train-window the baby looks on river flowing,
Its water is always muddy in raining tease,
Small waves, muddy water flowing, sunlight is not in full
color,
The baby losses curiosity to see reflective derives.
His eyes pick curiosity, looking for sunlight,
It is baby’s bad luck not to find magic,
Curiosity travels into his eyes to see the New River Bridge,
Balancing is a rose test of accuracy.
The baby looks forward how long river’s wide stream can
Hold silence, when flood situation fills the air.
As the river flows with its body towards seashore to
mingle with
Great course of oceanic mystery,
The baby does not think it, yet he looks forward for the
wave
That the river does create its speed inside.
The baby is in balancing mood not finding the spheres of life,
Neither he examines it nor does he understand it.
His gesture and attitude is innocent, spiritual, cradled realm,
It is his baby insights; it is his looking for throne
inside.
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