Hearing a chirupping sound
My hand searches the pocket,
there lies the cell phone
like a caged singing bird.
It's a cuckoo of musical charm.
Some calls it Nokia, some Airtel.
Words flow through it.
And through it exchange the lovers, their hearts.
Portable it is, keeping me uptodate.
A cricket match in London, I can watch anywhere.
Many faces so photogenic, I can store in it.
It's a feather in the cap of science.
A tiny world in your hand,
so vibrant and dazzling.
A soft timbre of great wonder
magnificent it may be, but a villain creating radiation.
Sometimes an object of display, a matter of pomp
Still inevitable, it can save a life.
And lead to innovations.
Cell composes life
and action of life may run through cell phone.
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