a poem by Satheesan Rangorath, India - poetry writer, author, poet

I met her under a full bloom laburnum tree.
The air of spring was afresh still in mind.
The entire groove was in spring flowers.
Path ways were strewn by petals of all type.

She was in Saree on a printed floral theme.
Mixed scents of flowers were flowing in.
She was heaving heavily with lovelorn eyes.
All we had done was talking with eyes.

We strolled aimlessly all through the places.
Often we listened to songs of nature.
Tweaking of birds excited our passion,
holding hands we trekked a long terrain.

Days rolled over seasons leaving imprints.
Clasping on to beliefs we passed our hopes.
Our anxiety developed into imaginations.
Finally we reached same spot we started.

The sun was drowning into unknown.
The moon was hiding behind uncertainty.
Hour glass had tumbled to a fresh turn; turning point.
Dry twigs of hope shows signs of a fresh sprout.

Our breath turned into a sigh of relief.
We clasped our old dry fingers together with love.
At last we talked a lot about our intricate life.
But what is there to talk about ultimately?


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