Tittered, scattered.
Lying crumpled in old, forgotten sands
Are broken wings
Fluttered by the cold northern winds
Fluttered into awakening, they sing
Of bygone, forgotten worlds
Histories of great empires and grandeur
Of souls and decomposed bodies
Lying in the sands with them
Forgotten, splattered.
(c) Shweta Taneja, Aug 2010