Days shall never know of the storm,
The storm that hides in the folds of night clouds
Until it sends a warning with lightening
The lightening which gets stalked by the sound
Twigs realize soon
That the buds and the fresh leaves might not survive
The pull of just the crescent moon,
Will today be enough to cause the high tide
Broken twigs and buds will swirl with their dying mates
The mammoth pile is dry, with dark spoilt shades
Turmoil finally settles when the wind catches its original breath
But by then, part of the nature has made its peace with death
However, before we miss , before farewells we bade,
About to bloom on the trees, are new blossoming shades
And in no time, we talk about colors shining bright
Almost forgetting, gone are the old trees which stood unnoticed from our sight
No comments:
Post a Comment