Apr 15, 2016
A MOOD
The beautiful and calming
becomes cold and lonely;
familiar landscapes
become blase
after many summers have come and gone.
And yet the alleys
grey and sunny,
dark and rainy,
the decks with a spray of dewy stars
hold the reins of my heart.
Summers play tricks
and the world closes in,
around and ahead in a mirage,
as when after years of silence someone speaks
not in whispers, but in wrath.
The slothful summer glances at the old casuarina tree;
it shakes languidly.
Beneath, a rustle of feet in leaves,
beautiful and calming,
cold and lonely
is the sound of casuarina tree.
A MOOD
The beautiful and calming
becomes cold and lonely;
familiar landscapes
become blase
after many summers have come and gone.
And yet the alleys
grey and sunny,
dark and rainy,
the decks with a spray of dewy stars
hold the reins of my heart.
Summers play tricks
and the world closes in,
around and ahead in a mirage,
as when after years of silence someone speaks
not in whispers, but in wrath.
The slothful summer glances at the old casuarina tree;
it shakes languidly.
Beneath, a rustle of feet in leaves,
beautiful and calming,
cold and lonely
is the sound of casuarina tree.
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