Liberty1 min 180 1 min 180
She's a butterfly, flapping and fluttering her wings, free to roam,
She enters through a broken glass window, her earlier home.
Many are still in the ICU of that government covid centre
Patients are lying on bed, with oxygen mask, on finger oximeter
Doctors and nurses are observing them, treating with care.
In the plastic attire for last twelve months she too sweated profusely,
Her wrinkled gloved palms couldn't touch anyone anymore smoothly.
No food and water for long hours, no time to relax, made her weak,
Her service to the nation was more precious than her body fatigue.
Alas! She joined the critical covid patients in ICU a week later,
Her colleagues tried hard to stable her breathing, but she lost the battle.
As a butterfly she is reborn, her good deed is appreciated by God,
She's beyond the deadly disease, so flies one by one to each bond.