Poems

A familiar feeling in the air wafts into my being,

That memory of the season of the leaves falling.

The coolish winter was silently receding,

The summer in its harshness was raring.

 

My dependent heart would not accept my tree bereft,

For those leaves were her identity and her beauty.

Those leaves, for years had caressed my marred soul,

And that tree had sheltered my body from the Sun.

 

Shared my fear, begged I, to her not to change,

For I didn’t know of any place I could last under the Sun.

The tree remained bemused, smiling at my naivete,

She by then had lost her innocence and become worldly wise.

 

She had seen the harshness of life and its crooked way,

That the fallen leaves would turn into manure which will help her grow.

The human nature like the leaves must change at the right season,

The old giving way to the new to justify our reasons.

 

*

 

Jay Jagdev | 15th January 2024

 


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